Sine Alis Volare
by Mhna
Summary: With the secrets of the demon gate unfolding in Fortuna city, Credo decides upon the road of no return to protect Nero's future. M/M slash; YAOI; CredoxNero [main pairing]
1. Dog's Dilemma

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own DMC, or its characters. All of that goes to Capcom. **

**Author's Note**: Hey guys, it's been a while since I've been on . A lot of crazy things happened, but most importantly I'll be published real soon! It's the one thing that's been taking up the bulk of my time, as well as graduating this year to get my first degree (there's two lol suicide? maybe) Anyways, this story was one I wrote a while ago, but where I had it posted disappeared, and it just seemed like a shame to keep it sitting around my hard-drive. The title is Latin for "flying without wings". I hope you enjoy.

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"You called to see me, your Holiness?"

Sanctus drew a pale, long-fingered hand towards Credo as he signaled him to sit down beside him. Without question he took his seat by the man he, as well as others of the Order, revered.

Some had speculated about Sanctus.

Credo, however, had no time for speculation.

And like the loyal military dog he was, he did as he was told. But, today of all days, that fervent loyalty would be put to the test.

Credo had seen it a long time coming.

Entering the room, he hadn't expected to see the old man. Sanctus' slow and assessing gaze brought Credo at attention.

'I will not fail him,' Credo thought haughtily. He was the highest chain of command—Sanctus' right hand. There were others who found Sanctus's choices distasteful. There was one in particular by the name of Agnus.

Despite several attempts to take his place, Credo was almost certain Sanctus would never sway for the likes of Agnus. He had sacrificed so much and would not come short for anyone. With pride Credo sat at the old man's side, crossing his kidskin gloved hands one over the other on the table.

"Credo," Although he was firm, the unmistakable plight of age had settled into his voice. Credo listened intently just for that reason.

"That boy, Nero is it? I hear complaints…" It always took Sanctus a while to get to the point. It took everything in Credo not to twitch. He'd heard of Nero's raucous behavior nearly enough from the other Spardan worshippers already.

Not to mention now his younger sister, in her foolishness, was batting lashes at him. Credo was definitely not in the mood to hear even his Holiness.

Credo was pretty sure Sanctus did not care.

_'You'd think he'd give a damn and show some respect to the other members. Now, I'm up to my neck in complaints. When I catch that brat…'_ Credo thought angrily. He didn't bat a lash as Sanctus rested his hand over Credo's tightly clutched ones. No matter how many times Sanctus did this, Credo could never feel the warmth of his hands.

"I will take any measure to cause a cooperative behavior in him. I need more time, your Holine—"

"Yes, I realize that." Sanctus interjected calmly.

Credo held his tongue.

"He is your charge. His lack of discipline is a direct image of you. He has no respect for the sanctity of Sparda."

Credo pursed his lips as Sanctus leaned closer. "Now, Credo," Sanctus whispered sweetly, the pad of his thumb brushing Credo's gloved knuckles. It made his skin crawl, but he watched Sanctus carefully.

"Yes your Holiness?" He finally said.

"You know what happens to those who cannot behave well with the Order?" Credo stared into his lap for a long time before he snapped his head up attentively.

"Yes your Holiness, I do."

When Credo had finally entered his home it had been late.

All this talk of a Savior from Sanctus was all he could think about. Was it possible to become like an angel? Sanctus had promised many things, but Credo was beginning to wonder if it was all the fantasy of an old man gone mad.

Nevertheless, Credo was still fascinated.

There was a legend that Sanctus often spoke of when Sparda was the Feudal lord of Fortuna city. Sparda had turned against his demonic brethren to save humanity, so the story went. But it had been so long ago, and who knew the truth?

Sanctus was convinced, however.

Despite his joining the Order, Credo wasn't much on faith. He had to believe in believing for the sake of the old man. And that's how things had been for the Commander for a very long time.

He trudged up the steps slowly as he tugged open his uniform. A crystalline snifter of brandy at his fingertips, Credo took a once over at Agnus's new experiments.

The "Blanco Angelo", as he so tackily called it, was supposedly soldiery entities whose sole purpose would be that of defending Fortuna city from demonic invasion. Several etchings and poorly scrawled notes littered about the already messy floor of Credo's study.

It was his space of Zen, a place he could go to when things were out of control. Right now he wanted to tug off his strapped boots and fall asleep on the divan, snifter and all.

Everyone had their poison to pick. He preferred his smooth and mind-numbing.

His household was a respectively quiet place. Kyrie was hardly ever here now, constantly at the church to pray and sing and do whatever young girls her age did. Despite his beloved sister's absence, Credo enjoyed the peace and quiet when he could. Everything else was chaos.

Entering his study, Credo tossed his uniform top across the divan, settling in an old cushioned chair he enjoyed sitting in.

The crystal snifter of brandy sat untouched at the unkempt desk across from him as he contemplated drinking to boost his denial at what was going on with himself. It was always a choice he had no problem making.

_Until now._

Credo was always known to be self-sufficient. Since the time his parents passed away, he'd stepped up to take care of his little sister, Kyrie. He remembered what first fueled him when joining the order. Things had been very hard at first—he was only fifteen when Sanctus took power of the Order. But it was only recently that the Order had militarized.

Credo's brow creased. Those times were well beyond them, now.

_"Do you know what your name means, my son?"_

_"No, your Holiness, I do not."_

_"It is a statement or belief; a creed. Remember to walk uprightly in this world, my dearest Credo."_

The soft sound of Sanctus' voice ebbed away into the back of Credo's mind as his memory faded away. Credo reached for the snifter without hesitation to pour himself a glass. It had been years since he'd remembered that conversation. It was one of the turning points to his career as Sanctus' right hand.

The things he'd done to get there haunted him—foolish, stupid things he'd thought in his youth were the right choices to make.

_'I did it for Kyrie, for the family.'_ But, deep down that was never the real reason. The heat built up in his chest and stomach as he leaned back with his legs spread. _I could use one more glass,_ Credo rationalized as he poured another. Just as he was about to take a sip, a soft rap at his door caused him to reach for his sword on impulse, but eased when he saw Nero's white head poke through.

_'Damn. Just like Nero to interrupt my plans of self-pity.' _Credo groused.

"How'd you get in here?" Credo barked; Nero barely took into account how grumpy Credo ever was. Perhaps he was so used to Credo's abrasive behavior, or was simply unaffected by it.

_Christ, was no one scared of me, anymore? _The thought baffled him but for a moment.

"Kyrie gave me the key." Nero's brow rose in amusement at Credo's almost confused glare. He had given his sister a personal key in confidence that only in an emergency she could come up here. He was glad to know he could now revoke her access.

"You and my sister have been awfully close. Did you steal it off of her?" Credo sneered as he downed his glass. Nero leaned in the doorway, arms crossed.

"I just pointed out that she gave—me—the—_key_." Nero reiterated, rolling his eyes. "You're drinking this late, again huh?"

"Go **away**, Nero." Credo grunted, not amused by Nero's game of twenty-one questions. But the boy strode into the room regardless as an open act of invading his privacy.

_Nero, be damned._

Not anyone could be in this room. Kyrie wasn't even allowed in here really. What made Nero think he was more deserving? Credo sat back and reached for the glass grumpily.

_'He has no sense of self-control, Credo. You know what happens to those who are unruly, don't you?'_ The soft titter of Sanctus' laughter echoed at the back of his mind. The hair on Credo's neck stood on end. Sanctus could not get a hold of Nero, no matter what. Credo felt ill at ease at the idea.

He was sure Nero knew nothing of those 'initiations'. Credo wanted to keep it that way. He would protect Nero for as long as he could.

Not that he really needed it, now that he was a capable fighter for the Order. In fact, perhaps he was one of the best. His attitude on the other hand…

"I spoke with his Holiness, today." Credo let out tersely as Nero tumbled haphazardly into the divan, the action knocking a short stack of books over. Credo watched him with furrowed brows as Nero's muddy-strapped boots draped over one of the arms. Credo attempted to swallow the slow boil of anger in his belly at the act, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he barreled on.

"About?" Nero dug a finger in his ear. Credo seemed affronted by the action.

"Your inability to cooperate with the Order, it seems." The older male managed to say.

"Look, it's not my fault those assholes have a problem with how I do things. It gets the freaking job done. Case closed." Nero made hand gestures as if to wipe his hands of something, tossing his hair out from his face. Credo's eyes narrowed before downing another glass.

"I get that you are doing all this to prove something. But, don't be an idiot." By the fourth cup, Credo could feel the velvety burn of the amber liquid coat his insides. He felt right where he needed to be, almost ready to ignore Nero's presence.

"Gonna give me a taste of that?" _Not likely. Damn it all._

Credo had almost forgotten about Nero for a moment, swiveling slowly in his creaky, cushion-y chair. Credo finally regarded Nero's crouched sitting position on the couch. The boy was staring at him openly with that curious gaze of his.

Credo curled his lip. Just what was he looking at? Credo's eyes wandered lazily over Nero's facial features. He'd grown so much in these last two years alone since he joined the order. He had been against it, but Nero insisted he serve.

_'Just as I had at that age.'_ Credo thought in discomfort.

Nero had always been quite the pipsqueak in his younger years, constantly following the older male about. He'd been so taken to Credo as a child like a little duckling chasing after its mother. It was borderline ridiculous how much time they'd spent together. In some ways Credo was like the brotherly figure Nero enjoyed looking up to. The boy had made no secret about it.

Nero had no family, had no recollection of their existence. Credo and Kyrie were the closest to family he would ever get.

Credo never wanted to admit it but Nero looking up to him, made the Commander somewhat happy. The same snot-nosed, wild-haired brat he'd encountered on those orphanage steps was no longer a little child. Nero was fast becoming a man.

Unable to hold their gaze, the older man averted his eyes elsewhere.

"Shouldn't you be too young to be drinking this?" Credo chuffed.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Credo."Credo paused at Nero's intense gaze. The older man looked away again, the awkward silence filling the space between them. Suddenly Credo wasn't sure if they should be in the same room together.

Perhaps he needed to lay off the brandy for a while. Either way, the feeling in his stomach coiled at the silence between them.

"I suppose you aren't." Credo finally said as he reached for another glass atop the shelf nearest to the desk, pouring the contents into the glass a quarter of the way. Nero's ears perked. Credo pretended he didn't see it as he poured. Surely there was a law out there somewhere he was breaking.

_Story of my life,_ Credo thought sourly.

The soft shuffle of Nero's leather-strapped boots behind Credo made his shoulders tense. Nero sat at the edge of the desk, plucking the glass from Credo's hand, their fingers touching. Credo looked up slowly to watch Nero drink down the amber liquid, a trail of liquor dripping down his throat.

Credo gripped into the table. Something about this was wrong. He was sloshed—the alcohol was making him see things. He would leave it at that.

Nero watched Credo reach for the snifter, stopping the older man from getting it. There was an almost teasing smile about that young face of his. Credo gave him a suspicious glance.

"Why are you here, anyway?" He asked, not sure why he hadn't done so sooner.

The look in Nero's eyes was gone, instantly withdrawn as he cocked his head to the side to shrug nonchalantly. "I don't know, to be honest. I hoped you'd be here, so I came by."

He came to see him? Credo shifted in his chair, slightly guarded by Nero's confession. Working for the order had kept Credo pre-occupied more times than not. There was a time when they hardly saw one another, both of them occupying themselves with the swarms of demonic creatures constantly appearing in the area.

His cheeks colored a bit, clearing his throat. It had been quite some time since they even sat in the same room together. They both sat in awkward silence, both seemingly contemplating what next to say.

Credo hardly recognized the young man sitting just a hair's breadth away from him. No sooner had he tried not to frown, he failed miserably at doing so.

_Well, I tried._

"I suppose I'm glad… you came." Credo leaned back into the chair, placing his glass down.

"You do?" Nero sounded genuinely surprised, his cheeks a rosy pink. Was that delight he'd seen? Or hope? Credo decided not to look at his face. It was nothing to be excited about, honestly. He didn't know why Nero had to act so… he didn't know how to describe it, really.

"Well, I mean—"Nero interjected. Had that been uncertainty in the boy's eyes? Nero was a lot of things, but uncertain was definitely not one of them.

"Err… never mind." Credo watched him do his trademark nose-scratch. He found himself a bit irritated by it.

Yes, it was definitely time for Nero to leave.

"It's time for you to go." Credo murmured suddenly.

"Aw, c'mon Credo!" Nero's head shot up, standing up to lean on the arm-rests to Credo's chair, barring his way from escape. The older man let out an indignant sound, curling his lip at Nero's sudden closeness.

"You're making me uncomfortable by just being here, so if you don't mind—" Credo let out, clamping his mouth shut as soon as the words had left him. He had way too much to drink, deciding upon blaming the copious amounts of brandy he'd practically inhaled earlier. He had even made the mistake of drinking freely around the boy.

Nero's eyes lowered as he moved closer until they inhaled each other's exhales. Nero's pink, parted lips were in Credo's vision.

What was happening…?

"Credo, I—" Credo's eyes widened a fraction more, glued to his chair like a deer in headlights as Nero bit his lower lip. The sound of the door closing downstairs sent Credo rushing out of the chair immediately. Behind him, he could hear Nero giving a soft curse.

"Kyrie's here." Credo whispered out more to remind himself. For a moment, just a moment, he'd felt a guilty quiver take hold of him.

"Let her come, then?" Credo heard from behind him. The older man whipped around to stare at the boy, brows furrowed. '_Just what does he mean by that?'_

"Didn't you say she never comes _up_ here?" Nero whispered harshly, his cheeks red. The boy's cheeks lit up brighter than a Christmas tree at Credo's reprimanding glare. The wheels to the cogs in his mind were finally starting to turn.

"_Yes,_ but—" This was probably the first time in a long time since he'd seen Nero embarrassed with himself. It still reminded him that Nero was still a young brat. Way too young.

_Too young for… Stop that, this instant._

The noises died away, both of them standing at the door, uncertain as to why they were both hiding like mice in an attic._ What exactly do I have to hide, again?_

What was Nero going to say back then? Nevertheless, it was beyond them, now. Deep down, Credo didn't want to know. It was just better if Nero did him a favor and kept his mouth shut. Another glass of brandy would help douse his brain free of guilt.

He hoped, anyway.


	2. Taming of The Shrew

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own DMC, or its characters. All of that goes to Capcom. **

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_"I have plans for the boy, just as I have plans for you, Credo."_

Credo's stomach lurched as he stood out at the balcony to his office. The large building they called their headquarters stretched out into the sky like a monolith. Sea stretched out for miles to the rear while Fortuna city to the front. It was their city to defend. But the sight of calm, blue sky did very little to bring Credo comfort.

It was always within Sanctus' right to get whatever he wanted. After all, he was their leader. What Sanctus wanted he would have, no matter how persistent the cause.

_No matter how damaging._

He would have been lying had he said he wasn't the least bit disturbed. Credo's kid-skin gloves protested as his hands clenched. He'd done his usual duty to turn a blind eye to everything Sanctus did behind closed doors. Sanctus was perhaps the most unholy man he'd ever met, but his agenda was still divine. Credo had done well to justify his objections for many reasons, but there was a means to every end.

Credo's lips pursed tightly. He did what he had to do, but since Sanctus had set his sight on Nero, he felt apprehensive… angered, even. The test of faith, he knew, would come but he never thought it would be Nero that would bring it about.

_Damn it all to hell._ Credo thought, gritting his teeth.

In a way, Credo felt he was the one responsible. But, he knew it to be inevitable. Just how, exactly, would he save Nero from this?

Nero's young face appeared in his mind. What would he say if he were to know? Would he blame him? Hate him? Credo was too unsure and lost in his own mind when he felt hands creep around his waist. He turned rapidly, the deft jab of his elbow colliding into—

"Grkk—Augh ! GEEZ, CREDO—"

_Oh._

Nero's soft hiss made Credo frown. It served Nero right for sneaking up on him. He was first commander to the Order. Sneaking up on him was no easy cake walk. But Nero had. This posed as a real problem, but it was something he could deal with later. His pride could be damaged later when a snifter of brandy would present itself.

It always did.

"You're not bleeding. Stop whining." Credo muttered as he stood closer. "Let me look." He took hold of Nero's chin, tilting his head. Nero had done an inordinate amount of dodging until Credo pinned him with a severe glance. The boy's lip curled into a sad attempt at a pout, obeying him reluctantly.

Credo's lips twitched at the display as he inspected the swell of Nero's cheek.

"About last night—" Slowly, Nero took a moment to speak, his chin still in Credo's gloved hand. They looked at each other long and hard. Credo was the first to look away, letting go. When he was sure he could compose himself, he spoke.

"That part where you invaded my privacy? Yes, I definitely remember that. Get on with it." Credo muttered curtly. Somehow in saying that, he'd manage to silence the boy. Usually Nero took every opportunity to butt heads with him. It was a testimony of his coming of age. All boys that age were rambunctious.

Even he was at some point.

_Sanctus tamed you, didn't he? _The voice deep inside his mind whispered venomously. Credo shut his eyes.

No. Not now.

Not when he'd done so much to erase those memories.

_He'll take him, too. Or do you want him for yourself? _The voice cackled.

"Stop." Credo gasped out. But, Nero was still there, watching with a look of anger and confusion. Credo wanted to laugh, but knew he couldn't. Just how crazy was he beginning to become? He silently wished for Nero to never be as horridly bitter as he was growing up.

"Look, I'll get out of your hair, alright?" It was the first time he'd seen Nero give such a face. A pang of guilt roiled in the pit of his stomach at the almost unbearable glare Nero gave.

He could resist it like all those other times.

"Nero," He heard himself say.

_I could let him walk away. I could. I could. I could._

"I didn't..." Credo let out awkwardly, his back to the teen still, his hands clasped tightly behind him.

He took hold of Nero's arm before he could really think, turning him around to face him. "I—yesterday was just—stressed is all. Sanctus has been rather… demanding as of late." Credo said slowly. He still had a job to do.

"Can I come up, tonight?" The question seemed to be lost on him for a second. Credo felt ridiculously uneasy about this.

He almost knew Nero would say that; it was just like the boy to be obstinate. It still caught him off-guard.

Credo didn't like surprises.

_ "I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request."_ He was almost entertaining the thought of saying it, but Nero looked so damned hopeful. He was beginning to feel conflicted.

God only knew he was a complete bastard when it came to saying yes to anything. Nero should have been the very first to know that fact about him. The word "no" formed at his lips, but then Nero was giving one of those stares of his—Credo suddenly couldn't find the words to speak.

"Take off your boots, next time, for God's sake." Credo surrendered with a sigh, wondering if this was a good idea. Unbeknownst to Credo's uneasiness, Nero hugged him tightly—something the older man was definitely not expecting.

"It'll be like old times." He heard Nero say softly, and gave a tight squeeze; Credo made a soft noise of protest at the act, patting Nero's shoulder in a way that made one think the boy was made of some dangerous substance. When he pulled back, a soft rap came at the large oak stained doors, both of them jumping at the noise.

That **_had_** to stop.

"That's my cue to get out of here." Nero winked as he pulled away, adjusting Red Queen on his back as he threw a long leg over the balcony edge. He could still feel the boy's warmth around his waist. Frowning, Credo watched Nero jump off and into the bushes far below. It was a miracle that Nero never broke his damned legs pulling stunts like that.

"You may come in." Credo barked. The fear in the hooded clergyman's eyes that opened the door brought him what little self-satisfaction he had left in this god-forsaken world.

When it came time for Credo to escape to his study, it had been late. He did most of his sleeping in this room, as his bed a floor down remained undisturbed. Kyrie had always taken a habit to fix it, even though Credo had discouraged her several times not to.

The scent of wood and old books was heavy; Credo found it to be a soothing smell.

His normal ritual of divesting his garments and indulging in his favorite poison was all Credo hoped for nowadays. The soft pop of his buttons as he undid them lulled him into a lazy trance. He relaxed into the divan, his head rolling to the side.

The soft jiggle of the door knob on the other side of the room brought Credo at attention, reaching for his sword.

"C'mon, you said I could come…!" Nero's muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door. Credo had hoped the boy would forget.

_'Wishful thinking on my part.' _Scrubbing the five o'clock shadow already growing on his face, Credo finally stood up.

When Credo opened the door, he paused. Nero hadn't been in his usual attire. He wore a plain t-shirt and… pajama pants? He gave a slow once over, ignoring Nero's determined gaze despite the small flush of color blooming across the bridge of his nose. The scent of soap was strong in his nostrils.

He showered recently, Credo noted with odd interest.

"Um—" Credo finally realized where Nero's eyes were focused, looking down. The lapel of his uniform was left open, exposing his pale, but sculpted chest. Nero scratched the back of his head, obviously embarrassed he'd been caught.

Credo stepped aside, closing the flap curtly with one hand, letting the young man in. "Yes, I realize I'm pale." Credo let out as he frantically buttoned the front. No matter how much sun he got, his skin refused to tan well. Credo had been sickly as a child and stayed indoors. He'd always looked longingly out the windows and watched children play, envying them for their health and energy.

"I didn't think that." Nero managed to say. His voice sounded awfully gravelly.

"What exactly goes on in that brain of yours, then?"

"I… it's nothing, really." There went the deflection. Credo's jaw flexed, a thick brow arching into a perfect point. He definitely had no time to play silly games of "who would smoke who out". If Nero wasn't man enough to say what was on his mind, then the topic didn't need to be discussed.

Nevertheless, Credo intended to provoke the boy. "Then what were you thinking about?"

Nero blushed, biting his lower lip. "Nothing! I wasn't lookin', ok?"

Oh, he hadn't been expecting denial. Credo found some sort of self-satisfaction in that, taking his seat in his favorite chair. Children would always be children…which led to his next point.

"Maybe you should invest giving eyes to young girls your age. My sister excluded." Credo let out nonchalantly, reaching for his reading glasses. Later on he wouldn't need them as a snifter of brandy called his name longingly. He would answer—soon.

It was a hard shove to send the boy over the edge—maybe to open his eyes to the fact that this thing—whatever the hell it was becoming—didn't exist. Despite their history, it was only Sanctus that tied them together now.

Nero looked rather angry.

_Good,_ Credo thought. Maybe he would get some sense and move on with the nonsense floating about in that stupid brain of his.

"That'll never happen." Nero gritted out.

"Ha!" Credo barked, a mirthless chuckle splitting the silence between them. "I doubt a boy your age isn't thinking about anything but girls. Why, in my time—"

"You don't get it, do you?" Nero spat out, and Credo's teasing grin slowly dwindled away.

"I've seen the way you dawdle around Kyrie—"

" I'm… g—…gay… I think." Nero choked out, falling silent. Credo didn't really hear him right the first time.

Credo took a long while to collect his thoughts before reaching for the snifter in controlled silence, concentrating on pouring the contents into the crystal glass nearby. None of this made very much sense, and he was sure Nero had no real idea of knowing something so monumental like his sexual preference so early in his youth.

Even Credo hadn't known for a long time. He'd tried love, but it wasn't for him he concluded long ago. Some people were just better off alone, and he felt he was one of them. Between his duties and Fortuna city, there was no room for personal pleasure. Credo didn't let himself want too many things. It was just easier that way.

It got in the way. Over time it was all just things he'd long since let go.

Nero had no idea what it meant to be a homosexual. He didn't know how it was to embrace another man and know it in its entirety; to be ostracized, ridiculed, and stigmatized for it.

Credo lifted the glass to his lips, forgotten memories melting away at the velvety burn of scotch traveling down his throat into his belly.

"Can I, uh… get some of that?" He heard the boy ask nervously, and Credo handed him a glass without looking his direction.

It was going to be a long night.


	3. No Such Thing As Purity

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Capcom has that lovely honor. ;)**

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**Author's Note:** I hope I haven't bored you yet! :) Thanks for the reviews so far. I didn't think anyone would read this, but you're proving me wrong. BTW, if you're interested in seeing some fanart done by a friend from a previous chapter scene, please show my fellow artist-friend some love. Also add me on tumblr if you haven't. I post art, doodles and WIPS of things I do: **Labelreject** ;Db

**Since FF wants to be a pain in my ass about links (anyone know the work-around for this? can't believe this is still an ISSUE :\), just look for ELIXDS, and she named it "Sine Alise Volare". Can't miss it! :D  
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Credo pushed his bangs out from his tired eyes with a soft breath. Despite the sunshine and clear skies, his morning had gone off to a rocky start.

He awoke to what seemed to be the brightest ray of sunlight hitting him right in the eyes from between the blinds. Awaking in the early morning at the sound of birds was always something Credo detested. It took a while to adjust his blurred vision as he sat up on the divan in his study. The familiar, dull throb of his brain at the light filtering through the blinds ushered a deep groan out of the commander.

He had yet to feel anything else other than regret every time he woke up like this.

Credo finally acknowledged the extra weight in his lap with a start. It didn't take long for him to figure out what was going on. Credo's heart stopped as he caught sight of a particularly messy white head cradled dangerously deep into Credo's more… sensitive areas.

Nero shifted with a soft moan that sent a trill of unease through Credo. The boy squint his eyes, lethargic as a new-born babe as he blinked up at the older man from his lap. Then Nero decided instead to bury his face into the dark, dusty trail of hair that went along Credo's exposed navel and stomach.

Gob-smacked, the commander stared on in what may have been a mixture of horror and—

_'No, just horror!'_

"Get up." Credo let out in the most militant voice he could muster, grabbing the boy by the back of his neck with one strong pull. Nero gave a grunt of confusion at first, lifting his head to find Credo glaring at him.

He shifted sleepily, mumbling something beneath his breath as he fumbled into a sitting position. Credo caught a glimpse of Nero's rather impressive morning wood, quickly adjusting himself. Credo took great care to stare someplace else while the teen slowly found his bearing.

Credo ground his teeth, scratching at fragmented memories, all things he couldn't make heads or tails of. His head began to pound fiercely.

The sound of shuffling downstairs had Credo's tail standing on end in panic. He'd forgotten all about Kyrie. He wouldn't allow this morning to turn into a cluster-fuck just yet. Not if he could help it.

"You have to go, _now_." Credo let out in a low, menacing tone. Nero yawned loudly, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"The fuck for…" He mumbled, but Credo didn't answer, busy on finding a way to detach himself from the situation for both their sakes.

In fact, he was too busy looking at his uniform draped neatly over the divan arm, eyeing the rows of embroidered buttons as though they were complex equations rather than shiny buttons. Nero bit his lip and watched him from the divan from beneath those long lashes. He was watching him with that curious glance of his.

Credo felt exposed at the way those eyes ran over his chest, and knew the boy was more than just looking out of curiosity. The older man pretended not to see it as he reached for his button-down vest, donning it over his broad shoulders.

He was young, and most boys his age were horny little devils. Credo would put it past him just this one time.

He was sure he'd heard a sigh of what may have sounded like disappointment nearly erupt from behind him. Credo turned to stare daggers.

Credo hoped he wouldn't be under attack by another bout of teenage defiance from the boy at a crucial moment like this one. The boy complied finally after a long moment of who-gets-to-blink-first.

Nero stretched loud and long on the divan, his shirt riding up to expose his stomach. Credo caught sight of the almost silver-white treasure trail that teased the band of Nero's pajama pants; the beginnings of what made boys into men, he thought. Credo looked away in time as Nero finished adjusting his shirt down over his midriff.

There was something awfully deliberate with his actions, but now was not the time for him to… speculate on Nero's motives.

_Christ_, Credo thought to himself. He was already becoming paranoid.

There was something they both wanted to say, but the moment never came. Credo didn't know another man alive who could. For that, Credo was relieved. It was better for the both of them not to say something unnecessary about last night.

_"I'm gay, I think." _

"Time is it…" Nero muttered. His voice was scratchy and hoarse from lack of use. Credo ran another hand through his tawny brown hair, a stray strand falling over his eye. Credo hated how easily susceptible he was to cow-licks in the morning. Pomade was the only thing that kept his hair slicked back.

"What matters is you have thirty minutes to get ready. I suggest you get started." Credo said in a stern tone as he finished buttoning his uniform. He couldn't recall much of last night. Only that Nero seemed to reduce to a blubbering mess after two full cups of his finest scotch.

Was it smart of him to intoxicate a minor? It bloody well wasn't. However, Credo just wasn't the comforting type, and the kid needed, well, _something_. He'd seen how unsure and fragile Nero was, how afraid he'd been while keeping this secret from him.

Last night he was a big brother again. He hadn't been that for Nero in a long time, he had to admit. It felt odd. However odd it may have been, Credo secretly hoped he'd never hear another one of those outbursts again. Teenage brains were an excellent specimen of crazy, the Commander concluded.

"Thirty minutesss? Christ on a stick, my head hurts…" He heard the teen hiss lazily.

"That's what you get for thinking you can drinking beyond your limit. I should've never let you." Credo snorted.

"For once you didn't have a stick up your ass, though." Nero gave a lop-sided smile as he rubbed one eye. Credo's shoulders rode high at the snarky remark, but he didn't respond. Tongue-tied, he settled for silently frowning instead. When the teen finally found his legs, he stood to make his wobbly descent down the stairs and out of Credo's line of sight.

When Nero was gone, Credo stood there for a long time.

He spent the next hour and a half convincing himself this was none of his business. What happened last night may have just been forgotten on the winds by the morrow. Credo chose to believe that. As sunlight invaded the room through the blinds, somewhere deep within the Commander a seed of frustration began to grow.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][]

When it came to the Order and their rituals, Nero wanted no part of it. He'd done well to let everyone know that he worked alone. Even though this was his first year out in the field, Nero had done well to complete every assignment to date.

When it came to swordsmanship, he'd learned from the best. Watching Credo growing up had always spurred something deep inside of him. Like he was meant to hold a sword. Like destiny had his name in the book of fate. This was what he was born to do.

So when he'd reached the age to join the order, naturally he did it to become closer to Credo. There were no "opportunities" for him outside of that. No schools would want him, his attendance and grades were pretty shit. No, Nero wanted a simple life, to be of service for a higher goal.

Because when Red Queen and Blue Rose were handed to him by Credo, nothing felt more perfect. It meant trust; it meant he could get the job done. Slashing down those demons was a better thrill than anything else. Maybe even porn.

But Nero liked his porn stash, like a lot.

Things were always better when he worked solo. People just often times than not got in his way. He was a natural in the field, and on most days the prey wasn't too much of a challenge.

He pretended to appear bored out of his mind, blaring his mp3 player to the max to better enhance the appearance of youthful rebellion, pleased with the intense glares his direction.

_Who the hell cared what they thought? _

But, today Nero found himself amongst the crowd of Spardan followers, though it was not his idea. Credo had practically tugged his ear off to make sure he came.

The man could be so downright catty sometimes, Nero thought.

Nero curled his lip. He hated being forced to do anything, much less congregate with _those_ judgemental pricks. He wasn't much one for religious mind-freaks. And then there was the mother-load of all things bullshit, Sanctus.

Sanctus was a creepy old zealot, with creepy old rituals. He just couldn't put his finger on why that was just yet, but the man reeked. He didn't know what, but he had a feeling someday he would seriously find out. He was usually right about these things.

Well, usually. Most times he was made to look like an asshole.

_They'd be right,_ Nero thought as he plucked up one of his insulated muff-like earphones to dig in his ear nonchalantly. Credo had insisted that Sanctus was doing things for the "greater good".

"Greater good, _my ass_." He had promptly responded back then.

Nero never bought it, but the determined look in Credo's eyes had always stilled his suspicions to an extent. If it weren't half-true, a man like Credo would never have believed it and joined the Order. And, Credo was a very smart man.

In a lot of ways Nero admired Credo.

_The way he gets antsy when I tease him…_

Nero shifted in the pew at the thought, the crests of his cheeks coloring. He had to stop thinking things like that. He didn't think he would have spilled out his deepest secret so readily to Credo like that. He'd been so surprised with himself, but decided to barrel his way through to get a glass of brandy to ease the situation.

The man looked ready to flee from him had it not been for the copious amounts of booze Nero got Credo to drink.

Although they'd drunk quite a bit yesterday, Nero remembered everything.

Worst of it was that he enjoyed taking advantage of the older man. He asked himself over and over if this was ok to do. _'A man like Credo needs encouragement to do things,'_ Nero debated with his inner self.

No one really knew that Credo was actually a little clumsy, a big dork, and didn't handle embarrassment well. He was full of pride, and it was never to be hurt. Nero always made quick work of Credo by pressing his buttons to emit all three characteristics at once.

He was the **master** of Credo-button mashing. He always enjoyed the borderline look of disgust on his face whenever he did the wrong things. It was one of Nero's passions in life. Almost smiling at the memories of his mischief, he heard the organ play its introduction, an angelic voice cutting through the loud blast of his music from his headphones.

Kyrie's voice rang out in the distance, her strong and melodic voice carrying through the entire cathedral as she sang the usual opening hymn.

_Listen to my voice calling you,  
Calling you out of darkness,  
Hear the devil's cry of sin,  
Always turn your back on him_

Nero, no matter where in Fortuna, could hear Kyrie's song. It was haunting, sweet and graceful, but words of warning. He didn't know why. Some part of him just knew.

Credo stood at Sanctus' side, his appearance never less than perfect as he ushered in his holiness. His hair was slicked back in its usual style, that haughty look of duty gracing his angled features down to the goatee he'd always keep trimmed. On anyone else, it would have looked over-the-top, cheesy even. But Credo looked perfect, just as he'd always been.

Nero's eyes were on him as Kyrie sang, unaware that he was staring openly.

Credo's kid-skinned glove tightened as he stood beneath the bright lights, looking focused and ready to serve.

Nero noticed the small signs of exhaustion on Credo's facial expression, his stomach tightened as guilt bore in him.

"Sons… and daughters of Sparda," Sanctus' wizened voice carried throughout the cathedral as he spread out his arms slowly, his white and golden robe billowing in one fluid movement. "Let us remember what Sparda has done for us. Shall we have a word of prayer," He bowed his head as his hands drew one over the other. Everyone in the congregation bowed except for the ever-defiant Nero.

Nero's eyes were on Credo alone, noting the almost minute slouch in Credo's posture, the bags under his eyes. The way he pursed his lips when he was deep in thought always caught Nero's attention the most.

He wanted to kiss those lips until they parted. Until they whispered unnamed, imaginary things that made his young sex ache at the thought of it.

Nero had spent the better part of his teenage years convincing himself that he was strange and wrong for feeling this way about a man who'd been nothing but family to him, who had raised, fed and clothed him. Nero convinced himself there was everything to fear in this need to test the boundaries.

But last night had changed things. He had needed that brotherly figure to remind him that there was nothing to be afraid of. He had wanted to see Credo as the big brother he'd always known and loved. He wanted to believe that someday he'd stop looking at him that way. Nero had thought about all those things of Credo for the longest.

It seemed impossible, so very impossible that Nero did what he could to distance himself. Things seemed ok for a while. But it did nothing but give him time to think the very things he'd been running from.

No more road to run on, Nero had thought.

Credo had been so tender, so quiet and resolute, knowing moments like those were best left in silence. He remembered how Credo had held him, even though the commander hadn't been prepared for the impulsive hug Nero gave first.

Arousal pooled in his belly at the memory, drawing his jacket discreetly closed as he stood mid-prayer. He had to get out of here. Slaying demons sounded way better than suffering another moment in this dump.

Red Queen and Blue Rose had his name all over it.

* * *

**SirenaLoreley:** I appreciate the comment! To be honest, I think it's a pairing that's not as popular as it should be. Credo is a magnificent character if portrayed right. And I have a thing for uptight, militant men. Nero will soon be his downfall… hehe~ ;)

**Evinid:** WE SHIP IT. There's so much I love about the dynamic possibilities with this pairing. I mean you know me… personally I think Credo is misrepresented because of how the game ended. And there's not much to go on, but maybe this story could shed some light on theories I've made about Credo's history.


	4. Easy Way Out

**Author's Note**: Thanks for the reviews so far. They're a great incentive to keep going. Since a friend of mine is celebrating her birthday, I decided to upload two chapters instead of one. Sexual frustration be with you all. lol

* * *

Credo had been more than welcome to lock himself up in his office until dawn.

He had no intentions of coming home. His courage, or whatever the hell was left of it, to deal with the situation remained unseen. Credo was well-aware of how beyond pathetic it sounded in his own head.

As much as it pained him to admit to himself, Credo didn't want to reconcile the fact that he was avoiding a seventeen year old boy. He created all sorts of reasons why it was best to sleep in his office for the night.

_So much for the easy way out._

It seemed to be the best place for Nero not to find him. However, Nero could be frighteningly resourceful when he wanted to be. Credo preferred not to interact with the boy until they both could cool their heels. He still hadn't found a way to deal with Nero yet.

_"I'm gay, I think…"_

For the millionth time, Credo decided he shouldn't care.

The words echoed in the back of his mind as he swiveled in his leather chair. He was still so very convinced that this was none of his business. Nero could have chosen among other boys his age to do his cannon fodder with.

If he was so curious about being gay, he had better prospects to aim his blasted doe-eyes elsewhere at other boys his age who were more suited for his needs.

Credo reminded himself that he was a grown man, emphasis on _grown_.

_A man with principles and morals, and… who am I kidding?_

Credo's hand swept across his ragged features, but the soft strangling noise at his balcony had him alarmed and reaching for his sword. The sound made his neck hair stand on end, readying his blade. The Captain stood, drawing the curtains aside with the edge of his blade slowly. If he was dying tonight, he at least had a surprise waiting for his assailant.

Someone stood at the balcony's edge, a weapon held securely in his hand. It was dark, but he knew whose white hair that belonged to. Nero's coat flapped in the wind as he turned to regard Credo from the balcony edge.

For just a minute moment, Credo had mistaken Nero for someone else. Some person, whose face seemed so familiar, yet was lost to time and to the illogical rabbit-hole of memories in his brain.

Cerulean eyes met hazel ones. And once again Credo found himself looking away first. Securing his sword on his back, Nero came closer to the edge.

"Come down from there this instan—" Credo froze as he narrowly missed slipping in what looked like black blood pooling on the floor.

Nero pulled up a mangled, disfigured body by the head for him to see. It was one of the demons from the gate. How had it gotten this far into the city? Credo's brows knitted together in concern.

"Is that—?"

"You ought to watch your back more carefully. I've been tracking this son of a bitch for a week." Nero hopped down from the balcony edge, tossing the body over the side. A sickening crack resonated moments later, Credo looking over the edge just in time to see the body disintegrate.

He had always found that curiously odd how their bodies did that.

"Looks like these fuckers are getting smarter." Nero brushed his nose nonchalantly as he stood beside Credo, his hand on his hips, Red Queen balancing on his broad, yet lanky shoulder.

Credo grimaced. He'd been so caught up in thought that he was completely unaware of the danger that laid waiting for him in the shadows. Credo's brows drew together, but he did not lift his head.

He needed to be more careful. But what was more infuriating to the Captain now had yet to be addressed. Nero saved him. Twice.

The thought of it sent his stomach roiling. He was now indebted to him. His pride couldn't allow it.

"What, no thank you?" Nero joked, giving a boyish smile.

Credo's back went rigid at the playful tone. _How dare he look so happy?_

It was a while before Credo turned his back on the boy, clasping his leather-clad hands behind his back. It was better to play cool, and reign in his emotions before saying another word. Credo was many things, arrogant and unapologetic was just the tip of the iceberg.

He thanked no one. And he especially _owed_ no one.

Credo's kid-skin gloves whined as he tightened his hands. "What's done is done."

Nero watched him from behind, his eyes lowering. Credo was not one for praise, much less thanks. To hear the Captain halfway fight himself on this seemed to give the boy amusement.

As if reading the older man's mind, Nero stifled a laugh. "Anytime, Credo."

Credo turned around at the sound of his laughter, indignant. _How dare he laugh! Most have never even dreamed of hearing me say such words, and the boy still has time to mock me!_

"Or shall I retract my statement? Since, you find it so amusing." Credo sneered.

Nero burst into laughter even more at Credo's outrage.

"Don't think just because you—"

Credo didn't have much time to think as Nero cornered him into the marble edge of the balcony. The older man leaned back, and Credo panicked.

"What the hell are you doing?" He snarled quietly, delivering his best menacing glare.

It did very little to stay Nero's advance.

"A kiss would suffice."

Credo hadn't counted on him to say that. He had thought of 1000 perfect ways to counter the boy, all seeming to flee his mind the moment those eyes met his. Something akin to guilt, or something close to it, had taken root in Credo. He was, to say the least very uncomfortable with the way Nero was looking at him right now.

"Excuse me?" He managed to let out. _Great deflection, jackass._

Credo's jaw slacked, incredulous. He sucked in a breath as Nero closed the space between them. Uneasiness manifested again.

_This was wrong to even entertain, _he repeated to himself firmly.

"I saved your life. You could at least give me this." Nero whispered as his hands rested on the marble slab, consequently blocking Credo from escaping easily. Credo was trapped, and the only way around him was if he fell backwards to his death. Or shoved the blasted boy aside and rushed to the safety of his office in time to put his mask up again.

He wasn't likely to let him get away like this again.

_Falling to my death seems to be a chivalrous idea right about now._

They both looked at each other, before Credo decided to move around him, taking his chances at his bluff. It was time he played the one card he'd been counting on using. The boy would see sense, hate him even. Things would get back to normal.

"That's enough, Nero. I mean it. I will not be toyed with, do you understand? I doubt you and I could ever get that far." Credo gave a cool and assessing once-over, pleased at the hurt look on the boy's face.

_Damned boy and his emotional outbursts. His irresponsible tongue. His… his __**everything.**_ Credo thought, feelings of bitterness seeping in. In no way could this conversation be continued. He would see to it.

He clearly didn't like being reminded that he was still so very young. The boy looked affronted, hurt even. Credo seemed satisfied with himself. Maybe he would now see reason. What he was looking for wouldn't be found. That line would never be crossed again, Credo vowed.

It was better this way.

"That's bullshit, and you know it." Nero pushed back, anger gracing his young features. He hadn't expected him to be serious.

Was he ever this pushy at sixteen? Seventeen, even? Had he been so hormonally charged to want someone else like that? It seemed forever ago that Credo wasn't so sure anymore.

He had Sanctus to thank.

The thought of Sanctus doing the same things done to him towards Nero made him sick to his stomach. Nero detested the Order already. If anything were to happen—

"Credo?" The boy's voice brought him back down to Earth again, staring. He was blushing like a little idiot again, giving that insufferable expression of his. He was even as so bold to stare him in his eyes despite the innocence behind said blush.

_Christ, what was I thinking?_

_He's young and interested._

It—this was inappropriate to new levels.

_The boy's willing…_

Stop.

"Can I come up, tonight? Please?" He heard from behind him. Credo didn't turn to look at him, unable to trust himself should he see the face Nero was making at that very moment.

"Nero, the answer is no." Credo started, arrested at the unsettling vulnerability in those words. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. Credo turned on his heel, seeking safety once he reached over the veranda and into the velvety carpeted interior of his office.

"That's a bad—no." Credo quickly corrected himself, occupying himself with adjusting his uniform collar to straights.

"Why?" Credo was reminded why he hated children. They asked too many damned questions.

" Is it… is it because I told you I'm gay?" Nero whispered guiltily. Credo was rather surprised at Nero then. The irony of the situation couldn't have been any more alarming. Was it because the boy was gay? No, not likely.

No… it was the thought of being alone with him now that he knew. That was what Credo feared the most. He was too young to be called beautiful. He was too young to be looked at like this.

He was painfully beautiful all the more.

At that, Credo was tight-lipped, revisiting the feeling he'd once felt in the attic that morning. It was like slow-fire that built in his belly. It was a dangerous feeling, so dangerous that Credo knew one thing: it needed to stop.

From the moment he'd heard Nero confessing things, he knew it would be more than trouble brewing. Sooner or later the boy would misplace his affection and confuse it for something else. Credo much rather it be never. The moment between them was put to an abrupt end as they both heard the sound of the door to the private hallway that lead to his office opening. Nero jumped off the balcony in time as Credo caught sight of Agnus.

He never did like how well Agnus snuck up on him either.

"Sanctus sent me to run the reports on the Blanco Angelo t-to you." Agnus gave him a suspicious glance, looking around. It was Agnus' insensitivity to people's privacy that Credo hated the most.

"What happened here? Who wer e you t-t-talking to?" His eyes fixed on the glimpse of blood on the veranda behind him.

_None of your fucking business._

"Demon attack. Got out alright." Credo managed a calm response.

They both stood in silence, before Agnus held up a few papers, a strange light in his eyes.

Agnus was a man who Credo had considered a rival, for Agnus always had his eye upon the right seat to Sanctus' side. However useful Agnus was to Sanctus, Credo despised his ambition.

For a change he was relieved to see him, fixing at his uniform coolly.

"I don't have all e-e—" Agnus took a breath. "—evening, Credo."

"Shall we?" Credo responded curtly, brushing past.

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Nero had stayed up until late to wait for Credo in the loft. He figured he would be one step ahead tonight, and encounter the man. Their conversation was left unfinished, and there were more questions left unanswered.

He swiveled in Credo's favorite chair, wondering when the man would come home.

The room carried the smell of old books and the faint scent of Credo lingering in the atmosphere. It was as if he had just been in this room not two seconds ago. It was comforting to be up here, surrounding by things Credo loved.

Nero sighed to himself with dawning realization, looking at the late hour on the grandfather clock perched at the end of the room. Credo wasn't going to come home, tonight.

He'd been stood up.

A part of him felt angry at the older man for making him feel stupid enough to believe he could confide in him. A part of him also knew he was sure he pushed too hard today, and maybe he'd spooked the older man.

It was all in the spur of the moment, and it had felt so right to do it. But, Credo had looked so worried and perplexed that Nero wasn't sure how to go about this. Credo may have been straight, and uncomfortable, and—

Nero shoved his face in his hands.

He wasn't sure at all if these feelings would ever go away.

It made him want things he'd never wanted before. Made him feel ashamed for the thoughts he'd let pass through his mind. Was it really bad to want him?

Nero knocked over a stack of books with his leather-booted foot, a vindictive act. "You give a shit about these books more than anything else, old man." Nero muttered aloud to himself.

He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. As he looked back down he caught sight of a pair of black kid-skin gloves that looked rather worn stuffed haphazardly into a small desk drawer. They seemed to be an old pair.

Nero reached for them, inspecting the wear and tear at the corner of the thumb. When he would recall this again, he didn't know why he'd done it, but the gloves were suddenly at his nose. The boy took a long whiff, could detect the scent of cologne Credo loved to wear and worn leather.

Nero leaned back in the chair, eyes shut as he let his mind run away. He thought about Credo and all the times he'd seen him slipping those gloves off. His hands would be rough from carrying his sword, veins on the back of his hands protruding like meandering paths beneath his alabaster skin… strong, sure hands that were steady.

Nero could feel the beginnings of arousal, his mind imagining more.

He would always whisper something inaudible, but Nero knew it to be true. They would share a kiss, one so passionate, so meaningful that nothing would matter but how the way his tongue felt against Nero's. His cock stirred to life at that, and his free hand was slipping into his slacks to touch himself.

Nero would lean up to kiss him, and in the dream Credo would let him.

"Touch me, here…" Nero whispered aloud as if to mirror his little fantasy, arching in the chair as his hand took hold of his aching sex, sighing. In the dream Credo would touch him, jerk him off as he was doing now, exchanging kisses.

His inexperience for these things always left blanks as to what could really be done between two guys. And so his mind often-times created what would happen. Nero gasped feverishly, his cock swelling at the sight of Credo's muscled chest, his chest hair, sinfully tight stomach, the pursing of perfect lips into a scowl. The way Credo reacted to him in his office would be different.

Nero would peel clothes off in desperation, both of them lying in bed. Their bodies would collide as their cocks would bump and strain, the grinding of hips, a possessive bite to Nero's outstretched neck, the moan that would erupt and then—

Nero keeled forward, biting his lip to keep his voice down as he felt himself reach his peak, rubbing his forehead into the gloves lying within the palm of his hand. He gasped and shuddered as he came into his hand. He panted, coming down from his lust-driven haze to sit back and stare at his cum-covered digits, suddenly remembering where he was.

Nero didn't say another word as he pocketed the gloves, standing up.

He thought of all the ways he would take down the wall that Credo had worked so hard to build. Nero was determined to tear it down, brick by fucking brick.


	5. Push Comes to Shove

Credo never did take Nero's invitation to what he mirthlessly called "Invitation to a dark path". He had done well to avoid Nero for over two weeks now.

But Credo soon found it didn't matter where he was. Sleep had done its best to elude him. And he found the reasons as to why made him very cranky about it. He was cranky about the crankiness most of all.

So when Credo's feet had brought him to the Order's training grounds, he wasn't in the least bit surprised. This was yet another place to help find himself. His other sanctuary in his home was being taken over by one white-haired teen.

He hadn't heard a word from Nero, and Credo was equal parts relieved and paranoid.

Nero was up to something, the Captain thought suspiciously.

Standing in the giant room surrounded by furnished fixings, a high vaulted ceiling, and a cushioned mat that reached the very corners of the room, Credo felt at ease. This was the place he'd learned to become the man he was now.

He picked up a sword, and learned how to fight here.

Credo could almost hear the sounds of exertion between spar partners. The scenes replayed before him as if he was already there, as if the room was full of people moving about. Those moments seemed to be the best, when he was focused and ready to show what he was made of.

Credo stopped at the mat to remove his boots and uniform coat before grabbing a wooden sword from one of the metal racks perched against the wall nearest to the door. Bare feet sunk into the thick blue cushion of the mat before taking slow steps into the center. No one would come here to bother him.

He let cool air sift over his bare chest, taking a deep breath to center his thoughts. And then the sword rose above his head, poised at his invisible enemy. Muscles bunched and worked in harmony as he brought the sword down with calculable slowness, thrusting it forward with one quick motion.

Credo let himself drift into the work-out, performing his sword-dance. The sound of his coordinated breaths in staccato reverberate the walls, acting as timed rhythms to keep him on point. Sweat dripped down his forehead in concentration as he imagined his assailant coming at him aggressively.

He flipped with a grunt, rolling back to land on a knee, his sword thrust out to the side as if he'd made a sweeping motion to cut them in half. Credo stood slow, one foot forward to take a final stance as he slowly sheathed the sword through the hand at his hip, exhaling.

At the sudden barrage of clapping from afar, Credo's heart threatened to burst out of his chest, spinning around to take a hard glimpse at his captive audience.

"Gotta admit, that was pret-ty awesome."

Credo stood rigid and irate as he'd seen the bane of his existence smiling triumphantly. The commander reminded himself to never underestimate Nero ever again.

Credo decided to put on an air of intimidation, knowing most likely Nero wouldn't be affected by it. He at least had to try.

"What do you want?" Credo snapped, cocking his hip to lean on the scabbard of his sword.

"You think you're the only person who trains here?" Nero shouted back. Credo prickled at the response.

Well, he hadn't really thought that far. The possibility was there. But it still didn't stop the man from feeling oddly suspicious of the boy. Nevertheless, Credo had no intention of staying. Any place where Nero wasn't was a good thing, he reminded himself.

"Need a sparring partner?"

"No, thank you. I'm done for the day." The older man said curtly as he made his way towards the edge of the mat.

"What's the matter, old man? Think I could beat your ass, huh?"

Credo screeched to a halt. He was baiting him, he knew. If he could keep going, ignore the boy's weak jabs at his swordsmanship—

"Not likely. You forget I am the Captain of the Order of Sparda." Credo gritted, continuing his quest for the door that seemed much too far away.

_Fucking brat._

"Captain or not," Credo had the power to walk away. For once in his life he could follow through with what he knew he had to do.

"You sure do a lot of running away. Doesn't that make you a pussy?" That was, until he heard those words. It sounded accusatory, and for once Credo didn't give a shit about anything but what the boy had the audacity to say to him. The wooden sword in his hand jerked, gripping it tight. Credo wanted nothing more than to throttle the boy into submission with it.

"The mat. Now." Credo's jaw worked over his aggravation as his eyes flared with competition. How dare he call him a pussy and get away with it! He would make that insolent boy eat his words.

Nero's smirk aggravated him the most. He would be sure to smack it off once he was done with him.

Credo watched as Nero reached down to undo the buckles to his brown leather boots, lifting his head to look up at Credo for a second, before focusing on removing his shoes. He set them at the edge of the mat, and then the Captain lost the edge to his hard, assessing gaze when Nero began to unzip his coat.

Nero shrugged out of it, exposing sun-kissed skin—he couldn't recall when the boy had the chance to tan.

The thought of knowing that sent another uneasy trill through Credo. It meant he'd been looking with interest. He wasn't ready to accept that fact yet.

Nero was not as skinny as he remembered him to be. He was no longer lanky per se. He was lean but toned from possibly all the fights he'd managed to win, and the result of his training. Rosy nipples met Credo's line of vision, and for once he didn't have the heart to look away, entranced by the way they pebbled.

_Perhaps from the cool air…_

Stop.

His jaw set, reminding himself that self-control was (in its entirety or so help him) just that.

Self. Control.

Nero tossed his coat on a nearby chair, rolling his shoulders and neck before grabbing a wooden sword. He followed the older man to the center, both of them standing a stance apart.

"Ready for me, tough guy? Best three out of five wins." Nero teased, holding out a hand to give a subtle come-hither motion with his fingers, and Credo snorted, unamused. The older man took his position, letting out a soft exhale to focus.

Nero took a stance different from him, his hand drawing his sword back as if in defense mode. Credo was first to attack, and he was suddenly in front of Nero. The boy gave a surprised sound that was cut off in an instant as Credo's sword met the tip of his nose.

"One-zero." The older man muttered softly as he backed away.

Nero seemed to recover in time to smack Credo's sword with his own, leaving the older man's defenses wide open. He thrust his sword near Credo's neck, a smirk playing his lips.

"One-one." Nero said with a cocked brow.

Credo rushed in, their swords clacking as they exchanged blows. Nero was not half-bad. In fact, he was holding his own. He was still upset, but the sparring seemed to take a load off of his mind. Credo didn't think, didn't need to where sparring was concerned.

They did a dance, dodging successfully every move they could make against each other, before Credo decided to step things up. Nero attacked, and Credo used his sword to deflect the boy, using his weight against him to send him staggering the other direction. He gave a good smack with the flat side of his sword to the back of the boy's head for good measure.

"Two-one." Credo had made sure to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Nero seemed pissed at being toyed with. Credo would've been lying if he said he didn't enjoy humiliating him.

The boy stood, rubbing at his head angrily. "The fuck you do that for?"

"Focus." Credo said curtly, his sword out before him. "Unless I am too much for you to handle."

At that Nero came charging in, and Credo found his reverse psychology had proved to be useful. Nero's technique was wide and sloppy as they exchanged blows. He looked angry, and if there was one thing one had to remember in battle it was to reign in one's emotions. Or that would be the death of them.

Nero had managed to land a blow on Credo's shoulder, the older man grunting in surprise.

"Two-two, asshole." Nero sneered, but the moment was short-lived when Credo swiped at Nero's knees, causing the boy to fall back first to the mat. Credo stood over him, his sword at Nero's neck.

"Three-two. Guess that makes me the winner." Credo muttered, drawing his sword back to give the boy a hand.

Nero made to reach for it, but decided to swipe at Credo's ankles with his foot, the older man falling on his back with a loud grunt.

"Guess I'm a sore loser." Nero panted, falling back on the mat.

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After the fight, they both found themselves sweaty and in desperate need of showering. The older man had trudged off with his things without a moment's notice. Nero seemed incensed on catching up with him.

_Damn_.

Credo had done his due diligence of thinking over how the brat found him in the first place. Had he just been watching him all along? Wrapping his mind around it seemed to irritate him more, so he settled on not thinking about it at all.

_Fat chance that was going to be,_ He thought grimly.

Very few people knew about the personal showers, and it was usually used by high officials, as well as sponsored talents that came to practice or for tournaments from time to time. Aside from his shower, this one was second to none. The variety of soap down to the tile patterns was elaborate. Whether or not funding came from the countless tithes Sanctus collected from the Order, Credo didn't care.

Usually he came here after training hard to relax.

"Whoa-ho—this place is awesoooome." He heard a whistle from behind him.

Credo sighed.

"Go home, Nero."

"Helllll no! Totally showerin' here!" Nero said aloud, his eyes wide as he looked around.

They both entered, the door shutting slowly behind them. There were fresh towels in a closet-like space to their left, and everything they could ever need along with it stored in gold-embossed shelves.

Credo grabbed a towel as Nero inspected the soap names, looking much like a child in a candy store at the selections.

The older man left the boy to his exploration, tugging off his belt to place in a cubby nearby. As he began to remove his pants, he took note to the sudden silence, whipping around to find Nero watching him.

They looked at each other, before Nero looked away.

Although he couldn't see the boy's face in time, from here Credo could see the way his ears were red. It spoke of shame, and other things the commander wasn't ready to identify.

The air was tense between them. But, Credo was the first to relieve the boy of any shot he had of bringing up what was left unsaid at the balcony two weeks prior. He undressed quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist. He barreled past the boy, having decided that this was for the best. Eventually he would give up and move on like all teenagers his age did.

Credo hopped into one of the shower cubicles in hopes of renewing his efforts to cease and desist.

Both hands on the tiled wall before him, he let hot water pound his body. His eyes shut in concentration.

_One thing at a time,_ he thought.

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When Credo had finally come out, he was surprised to find Nero standing there with a hand at his arm, looking unsure and nervous, and completely naked.

He looked clean, his hair matting to his skull. So, he had found time to shower _and_ accost him.

_Perfect._

He was wearing a towel, but even so Credo's heart pounded, but he managed to keep his face straight. They exchanged no words, Credo being the first to trudge towards his clothing. He'd be damned if he allowed himself to fall here.

"I don't fucking get you." He heard from behind him, and Credo pretended not to appear as panicked as he felt he was.

"There's nothing to get." Credo muttered aloud, more to remind himself of what was at stake.

"You're a royal asshole, you know that?" Nero's voice quivered as he breathed loudly through his nose. "I waited for you that night."

"I recalled never giving you the go ahead to do such a thing." Credo replied tersely, his hand fisting the towel tight around his waist. This conversation, _apparently_, was going to happen whether he liked it or not. Credo's nostrils flared.

"You never answered my question that night on the balcony." Credo found it difficult to swallow then.

"About me being gay." The boy clarified in lieu of Credo's silence.

_Ah, yes, that… stupid boy._

"I don't care to discuss your… sexual preference, Nero. If it's any consolation, I don't give a damn."

"Then why won't you look at me?" Nero spat impatiently, and a nerve in Credo seemed to snap.

Maybe it was because he knew the moment he looked back, his resolve would crumble. He was afraid of what he could do, what Nero would let him do. Nero was seventeen; he was almost thirty-six. He was old enough to know the consequences, Nero didn't seem to care.

That scared him more.

"I don't need to explain why it is I can't look, now can I!" Credo barked bitterly, silencing himself as quickly as he'd begun to speak. He knew he fucked up by saying it, because Nero was so much closer now, that curiosity of his palpable and in the air.

"Why won't you look?" The question was full of confusion, but pressing all the same. Was the boy really stupid? Was he so unaware? Credo couldn't tell.

"Are you—"

"I'd rather not talk on—"

"—gay, too…?" The boy continued over Credo.

_God damn it._

There was a long silence, before Credo let out a sniff.

"How'd you know?" Was the question Credo expected him to ask next.

"It was a long time ago. Nothing worth talking about." Credo deflected, his mood exacerbated by the fact that Nero had somehow picked up on the context of his outburst. The boy seemed too curious to let things go now.

"How did you know you liked guys…?" He persisted.

The conversation was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. He was practically dripping wet, and now was the time the boy wanted to strike conversation about his aptitude of what gay was. He repented momentarily to any invisible powers that be for indulging the teen with what he was about to say next.

"A friend," Credo grunted, removing the towel without much thought to wipe his hair, his back to Nero. He wasn't going to disclose any more, but he could feel eyes boring the back of his head for answers, sighing aloud.

"He turned out straight, I wasn't. End of story."

"Oh… sucks." He heard from behind him. The voice sounded oddly close.

"It was a long time ago." Credo mumbled, turning back to see Nero watching him again, something much scarier shining in his eyes.

Understanding.

_Oh God, he needed to get out of here. Now._

"Hey, Credo?"

The older man didn't look back as he began to shimmy into his uniform pants, but cocked his head to the side to listen.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Telling me that. Guess it's our little secret."

Credo wanted to turn around and threaten him with a million reasons as to why he better not, but Nero was well on his way to getting dressed, and was soon out the door, leaving a confused Credo in his wake.


	6. Balls to The Wall

**Author's Note:** This is the longest chapter I've written so far, but it was well worth jotting down. Ironically it all came to me in a dream. I dream lucidly, so I can remember how things go most times. Thanks to the reviews, I'm glad people are enjoying the read so far. Stay stylish~

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The halls were pitch-black in a darkness that made Credo's neck hair stand on end. He could hardly see before him, but looking down at his own hands the Commander knew instantly what kind of dream this was.

It always began this way.

Underneath one lone lamp decoration hanging at the nearby wall, the light contrasting the darkness was unsettling. Credo took another look at his hands and knew he was reliving a memory in his youth. It was eerily silent, and the odd flapping of bird's wings could be heard from outside, but there were no windows to see through.

The lamp flickered, distorting the light around him, and then one echoed rattle far down in the depths of the darkness had the boy looking back in fear. Credo knew he needed to run, or it would find him. He didn't need to see it to know what kind of things it could do, and so he dashed into the unknown, using the wall as his guide.

There was no time to think, only to run, and the boy frantically hurried to what seemed another lit lamp, stopping to catch his breath. His hands shook as he rested them at his buckling knees. He couldn't have imagined that it would be so hard to find the door.

_Where is the door? If only I paid attention!_ He gritted his teeth in panic and frustration, sweat beading at his furrowed brows. But then suddenly the hallway opened up to him in two directions. He had two choices: to take the left or go to the very right.

The sound of clawing behind him in the darkness had him frozen in fear again. It knew where he was, now. Credo knew he was running out of time.

He ran in a way he thought he never could in real life, finding it so very strange that there was no one there to help him, forgetting he was caught in a nightmare. The boy's heart hammered violently in his chest, fear resonating deep in the pit of his stomach at the clawing sound growing greater by the second.

It would find him. Then it really would be over.

Credo had learned quickly not to scream for help through this hellish maze; it attracted the dark figure. He knew no one would be coming for him, but yet he still ran. He still hoped.

He took a mad dash as he saw a familiar portrait down another hallway, and finally a glimmer of hope seeped in.

Maybe he could make it.

_Maybe the monster wouldn't find him._

The grand hall that the Order of Sparda prayed in had come into view, the large monolith-like doors standing tall before him. Credo ran as if the wind were at his heels, stumbling to them.

_He was so close! He could taste the freedom, now!_

The boy's hands were on the knobs, twisting them. He hoped and prayed to whatever was out there that would listen. The cold air hit the boy like an icy wave to meet Fortuna before him in wintry slumber, inhaling as if it were his very first breath.

But then it was short-lived.

The moon's effervescent glow on the snowfall was the last he'd seen before being dragged into the darkness. It surrounded him, suffocating him. The boy let out a blood-curdling scream into the night as the door began to close on him.

Credo shot up quickly, hands fisting tight in the air as if he were fighting some unknown entity. He was drenched in sweat, panting as he ran a hand through his messy brown hair.

It was a dream, just a fucking dream.

Sweat decorated his brows, collecting in swift drops that fell from his chin and neck. His chest felt on fire. He hated these god-damned nightmares. They always felt so real.

The commander sat up and rubbed into his throbbing temples, relaxing a fraction at the familiar surroundings of his loft. The sun hadn't quite made the horizon, but he wondered what time it really was.

Credo scratched his stubble as he read the time. It was 3:20 AM, nowhere near dawn.

It seemed unwise to drink himself to a stupor now, lying back in the divan in bitterness at the thought of being left in silence with his past. With a long sigh of defeat, Credo realized it would be a long time coming before sleep ever visited him again.

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"Do I really have to?"

"Yes." Credo tersely replied to the youth sitting across his desk, sifting through paperwork.

"It's not an option, Nero." He regarded the teen with an almost cross glare. Credo's patience was legendarily thin, considering his recent bout of insomnia. Of course the boy had no idea, but it didn't stop Credo from sneering uncontrollably at him.

Nero pouted, leaning back in the chair parallel to Credo's desk. His legs were spread unceremoniously wide, jerking his knee to the beat of the loud music in the headphones that were always on his head.

Credo personally thought he looked like an idiot with them. But, Nero supposedly thought it was "cool", or whatever-the-fuck word kids these days used. The generation today definitely lacked vision when it came to fashion.

Credo thoroughly enjoyed his suits, ties, gloves, and leather-clad boots. He was a military man at heart, and loved being dressed for success down to the last stitch. It was just who he was.

The thought of Nero in a suit crossed his mind. He imagined the boy fidgeting with his tie, his white hair slicked back. His bangs would fall over those haunting cerulean eyes as he would give a sheepish grin, finally presentable.

"Those douche-bags will give me trouble, I know it."

The idea died off with the sound of Nero's obnoxious remark.

_So much for class,_ Credo thought acidly.

Credo wasn't sure what part of Nero made him say the things he'd said in the showers. That was the only thing his mind just couldn't seem to wrap around. Thankfully since that time, both of them had not brought up what had happened between them. And quite frankly, Credo had no intention of discussing it.

He was definitely not going to discuss getting sized up by Nero either. No, there was nothing to discuss at all.

"The whole purpose of this exercise, Nero," Credo began icily. "—is to have communication skills with the other Order members, in WHICH you managed to fail miserably at."

"That sounds like royal bullshit to me. I thought I did pretty ok." Nero interceded as he plucked off his headphones to glare at Credo, sitting up.

"Well, sad to say you didn't. Captain Rinehart has faxed me a list of complaints as long as my arm about you. I suggest you make a better attempt next time."

"Next time? Christ, I have to commune with these freaks again?"

"Well, I'm not goin'." Nero grumbled.

"You don't _have an option_. That's the end of that." Credo warned.

He absolutely hated being challenged, especially by the likes of greasy-eared, inexperienced children. It seemed Nero was the only person who did it without much thought. He sometimes wished to beat it out of him. Credo settled for clenching his fists instead.

"Or what? Daddy gonna spank me?" Nero teased, but his eyes hadn't met Credo's when he'd said it. The teen's cheeks tinged pink.

_Oh, just lovely, _the older man thought as he curled his upper lip at the display.

Silence fell between them both, but Credo was sure that they both were contemplating on whether or not they (naming Credo) should respond to that remark.

He absolutely knew better not to.

"Nero," Credo started sternly.

"Yeah, I know, I know… I'm goin'." Nero muttered in a defeated tone. "Are you going to let me up tonight…? There are some things I kinda want to talk about… you know, about… well, _that_." He said rather vaguely, and Credo could only guess he was referring to the fact that they were both gay.

And perhaps, available to each other.

Or maybe they could hold hands and sing Kumbaya and all that jazz.

Credo could very well have pinned it for more selfish reasons as to why he had to say no, but there it was. Nero would understand it, someday. Credo was at least confident of that.

"We'll see." Credo said with a guarded gaze, stacking papers. _What the hell happened to standing your ground?_

"Or you could say yes?" Nero asked with a hopeful glance. He stared at Credo from beneath those long lashes. The Captain swiveled his chair just in time not to be affected by his tomfoolery.

Credo was well aware of Nero's intent to pry him open ever since the shower incident. He hoped to trump the boy's insidious plans to seduce him. He wouldn't be the one to give the boy pipedreams.

_More like illusions of grandeur,_ Credo thought, his stomach roiling.

Credo stood up to stand at the balcony to his office to stare out over Fortuna city. The people in this city needed to be protected. The Blanco Angelo army was near complete. Soon being part of the Chosen would become reality.

But, that wasn't what Credo had been thinking about at all.

Not the plans for the Order.

Not the demon gate, nor Sanctus.

_Sanctus…_

Hands snuck around his waist as he was deep in thought, Credo's eyes fluttering open. It took everything not to flinch.

Credo turned slightly as Nero's face buried into the back of his neck. He didn't remember Nero being this tall. It unsettled the Captain further.

"What are you thinking about?" An open, vague question met his ears. Credo hadn't answered at first, staring off to a fixed point to help keep him focused from touching Nero, much less pushing him off in disgust.

Disgust at himself, that is.

The teen's hands were warm, the scent of him wafting around him. Credo shut his eyes. He could smell soap, and the underlying trace of cologne Credo usually wore on Nero's clothes.

_Why on earth would he wear…?_

_Oh,_ Credo thought to himself.

_He wants to be closer to you. _His mind offered up. The thought made something akin to guilt build in his gut. Credo hated the feeling already.

"You never answer my questions." Nero muffled into Credo's back, finally breaking the silence.

"Stop asking silly ones, and I just might." Credo retorted. It brought on a long bout of silence as they both stood at the balcony. Nero hadn't released him, and yet Credo was contemplating whether he should break up this little love-fest.

"I've been thinking about you all day…" Nero confessed, and drew a shuttered breath from behind him.

"I'm sure you have." Credo replied vaguely, something stirring inside of him at the words. It was almost nostalgic, as if he'd heard those exact words once upon a time. He tried not to sound involved, and focusing on that magical point on the horizon seemed to be doing a bang-up job.

"Is that bad?"

Credo hadn't answered, but knew he should have. Before he could, however, Nero had shot out another question, his plan to discourage the boy gone to the winds of perfect timing.

"Are you expecting anybody right now?"

"I know where this is going, Nero, and—" Credo whipped around, but his arms was suddenly full of seventeen year old boy. Credo's arms stayed suspended in the air for a long time as he debated whether or not to touch the seemingly troubled teen.

"I really—I just—can't sleep sometimes. Y'know?" The youth babbled into his chest. He could hear the uncertainty in Nero's voice. A part of him remembered how it was like to be his age. To like someone he shouldn't have. It had been so long ago, a long-since buried memory.

Memories he had no incentive to resurrect again.

And then Nero looked up, both of them searching each other before he inched in. Credo turned his head a bit, flabbergasted at the boy's gall. From here he could feel his breath against his face. Credo's suspended hands twitched, totally alarmed.

"Don't." Credo had little resolve behind it as they clumsily bumped noses.

"C'mon…"

"I will hang you by your little neck if you test me."

Nero seemed to balance between calling the older man's bluff and taking his chances, or dying a horrible death. To the Captain's surprise, Nero began his ascent, and Credo was baffled at how stupid the boy could really be.

_Had he no remorse or shame? _

"Clearly you wish to die." Credo said through clenched teeth. Nero groaned as Credo's hands cupped his neck firmly in warning, yanking his head back by the hair.

"A-Ah, shit—ok—OK, SORRY—" Nero whined, finding it impossible to get Credo to release him as he squirmed around.

There was a sudden rap at the door, both of them jumping at the sound. Credo took his seat once more, watching as Nero grabbed for his weapons. Credo had them delivered to his office after maintenance, knowing once the boy came to get them he could have a conversation about his behavior adjustment.

The Order still demanded Nero change. Nero didn't understand the gravity of the situation if he didn't. Credo found it difficult to put into words. But it didn't seem to matter now as they were being interrupted once more.

_"We'll talk about this later,"_ Nero mouthed to him, as he headed to the door, his weapons in tow. As Nero hurried past the next appointment at the doorway, Credo sat rigidly.

As he gripped into his chair, kid-skin gloves whining in protest at his tight grip, he feared this was only the beginning of his fall from grace.

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When Credo had come home, it was late.

With a stack of reports in his hand, the Captain trudged up the steps and past his bedroom. He hardly slept in there, and when he did it seemed impossible to sleep. Nevertheless it was tidy, perhaps his sister still held on to the hope that he would will away his chronic insomnia. It shamed him still to this day that she had seen him once or twice in his most vulnerable state when the nightmares were strongest.

It made him feel weak and utterly human that he still battled this at his age.

But Kyrie was kind and understanding, and had grown to become a fine young girl. Just like their mother had been.

Old memories of them as children bombarded Credo's mind, a pang of sadness filling him at their parents' early, unexplained deaths. He remembered how it felt to be the parent, the caretaker, the provider so young and early in his life. Luckily their parents had an inheritance left for them, but it was never something Credo wanted to rely on.

And then at fifteen he'd found the Order, and the rest was history.

In need of a drink, Credo dragged his feet up the last flight, pulling out a key to open the door. The room was lowly lit, and was surprised to see Nero lying on the divan, one hand covering his eyes while the other loosely clung to—was that his bottle of scotch on the ground?

Credo pursed his lips. A million scalding replies came at once to the tip of his tongue, but as Nero groaned, they died there. Was the boy drunk?

"Nero," Credo muttered over the boy, inspecting him.

"Mmn?" The boy looked confused, lifting his head in alarm. "Oh, hey…" He gave a lop-sided grin, and Credo had wanted to smile back.

Except he didn't.

"Go to bed."

"Huhn? Why? I _like_ it here." Nero slurred, a giggle erupting soon after. Credo rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, praying for patience before tugging Nero up into a sitting position. He sat up, his brows knitting together in confusion, but then was ready to lie back down again. Credo pushed him back into a sitting position.

He vowed to never give the boy alcohol a day in his life again.

"I'm r-really drunk, oh—" Nero said aloud to himself, as Credo helped him stand. His breath smelled heavily of scotch. He stumbled forward into Credo's chest, both of them looking at each other. Nero gave a silly little smile, his eyes lowering.

"Can you stand?"

"Yeahupp—nopenope—" Nero wobbled, and Credo let out a soft 'tsk' under his breath.

"What did I tell you about drinking my scotch?" Credo asked, irritated.

" 'Don't drink mah damn scotch.' " Nero tried at a bad impersonation of Credo when angry. The older man, as irate as he had been, let out a snort in amusement.

"Yes, exactly."

The descent down the stairs was a slow one as Nero seemed to trip down every single one. Luckily Credo had his hand around his waist. Nero's room was just down the hallway from his, and it occurred to the Captain that it was ages since he'd stepped foot into that room.

Credo wasn't the least surprised at how cluttered it was. Socks, magazines, and boxers littered the floor. Blue Rose and Red queen seemed to be the only neat items perched on their respective shelves across the room. The rest looked like chaos.

It was still dark except for the light in the hallway illuminating their path.

"Here we go," Credo whispered, almost to the bed.

"Fuckin' mess, I know." Nero sounded rather pleased with himself. The older man snorted in disbelief.

He settled the teen down and watched the boy flop lifelessly on the mattress.

"'Whoah, whaddabout my shoes?" The boy said a little too loudly from the bed as he seen Credo turning to leave, the older man's shoulders squaring. He hadn't done things like that for Nero since his childhood. But, Credo knew if he didn't at least help the boy take off his shoes and pants, he would sleep in everything. And that was unacceptable.

He gave Nero a long assessing gaze, before tugging a pant-leg to get down to one knee with a sigh. The boy held out his leg with a lazy smile.

"Thanks…" He whispered, wiggling his booted foot. Some part of Credo felt as if he was being had, but continued to pluck every buckle to his boot open.

Both boots off, Credo reached for Nero's pant legs. Nero obediently lifted them while tugging off his shirt to toss frivolously to the other side of the room, forgotten.

As Credo stood to tug his pants off, his brows drew together as he found Nero watching him. He was alarmingly sober now. He caught sight of pebbled, rosy nipples, broad chest, a lean but defined stomach, and the almost silver trail of hair that wound down his navel. Nero wiggled slowly beneath Credo's wandering gaze, blushing as the older man had seen the evidence of his desire tenting in his underwear.

Credo clung tightly to the article of clothing in his hand as Nero stood. His hands were now at the man's sides in a slow, languid movement that had both of them breathless and unsure.

The boy was down to his underwear, now, virile and healthy and all things the Captain didn't want to think about, except he had just then. Nero's nipples were already hard, and Credo had the wild thought of taking his mouth to them to hear the sounds he'd make if he did it.

He gritted his teeth and was utterly consumed by his need for things he told himself he had no right to feel, especially at a moment like this. Nero was still too young for him, still too young to know a man's touch. _Like he had once upon a time._

But Credo's feet were caught in the quicksand of his own desire. He couldn't move, entranced for a moment in the way Nero smelled so close to him. He smelled of… _oh, he smelled of…_

Nero stood on his tip toes, now flush against the older man who refused to touch him back.

"I want you… d'you want me too?" The question was soft and disarming, and Credo found himself helplessly aroused by it. As the boy drew near, Credo's erection pressed into Nero's belly, both of them gasping at the contact.

"You need to sleep—" Credo swallowed into a whisper, his voice hoarse and reedy.

"I need _you_." And then Nero was kissing into his neck. The shock of it was what Credo needed, pushing the boy away, holding him at arm's length.

"Good night." Credo managed to say as he hurried out the room with what dignity he had left, shutting the door behind him.

Alone in the hallway, Credo covered his mouth, more aroused than he'd ever been in a long time. The seed of frustration flourished within Credo now, bitter that he allowed this boy to eat away at his steely resolve, and wind him up this tight and feel things he never allowed himself to feel in years.

He had allowed himself to lose his way. With dawning realization, he realized he had been lost the moment he'd let Nero confide in him. It was as unsettling as it was true. Credo would fall sooner or later.

He feared it was only a matter of time.


	7. Precursor

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone reading so far! Your kind words don't go unnoticed. Please feel free to add me on my art blog on tumblr, deviantart, or twitter. The links are in my profile. ^^ When will there be sex? WELL, GOOD QUESTION. Rome wasn't built in a day though _(HEH)_

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Nero awoke with a snort at the loud rap at the door. He lifted his face from his pillow, a string of drool following in its wake. He smacked his lips before placing his face back into the sweet warmth of his pillow again, but then the knock came again.

"Wake up." Came the militant voice. Irritated, Nero cussed quietly.

_Get the fuck out_, he had so sorely wanted to say, but Credo was the type of guy who took pride in waking up early. It took everything and two jackhammers to wake up. He wished the older man could understand that.

Taking one sleep-ridden look in the other man's direction he found that there was absolutely no sympathy there.

_Shit. Ass. Fucker._

"Awright. 'm up…" Nero mumbled, stretching out like a tomcat recovering from a nap.

He seemed to be standing there, longer than he usually did, as if inspecting him and Nero watched him back with unabashed interest from his folded arms. He watched the older man visibly draw away from the look, perhaps embarrassed he'd been caught looking.

_God, he could be cute in his own way,_ Nero thought, hiding his smile in his arms.

"Kyrie," He heard Credo supply in a much softer tone than before. "She's made breakfast and suggests we eat it." The older man said, his head turning to peer sightlessly at the door jamb. There was an awkward silence between them, Nero being the first to break the tension.

"I… hey, uh… last night…" Nero began as he sat up. He knew Credo would either run or become defensive, but last night only confirmed that this thing between them was becoming real. Or at least he wanted it to be.

Credo was so uptight about it. Didn't he know how handsome he was? The mere thought of him giving eyes to other women in the past had sparked jealousy in the teen countless times before. He'd seen admirers before, but Credo never seemed interested in them. He'd done his fair share of thinking when it came to this man. He wanted him, but it seemed Credo wanted nothing to do with him.

Then he'd show the crack in his armor and give one look his way, and Nero's curiosity would soar again.

Last night… last night had changed that perception a great deal. He'd seen Credo in a way that Nero was sure no one else had. The way he reacted… Nero could still feel him. Credo could've said the word and Nero would have been more than ready to get to his knees. The thought made him blush profusely, but a bold thought crossed his mind.

He could deny this shit all he wanted, but Credo liked what he saw. He knew that now. The older man wouldn't be able to take that moment back.

"About last night…" Nero said slowly.

"You were drunk and foolish." Credo grumbled, crossing his arms to look at his boots. "Don't do it again."

"S-Sorry… won't happen again, promise." Nero said softly. He wished Credo would look at him, instead of looking so anxious. A twinge of anger rose at the indifference. He had taken a glimpse at the man underneath and wanted to rile Credo up like he'd done last night.

Suddenly Nero's life mission in an effort to unravel that cool exterior was revitalized. The face he'd made last night had him just as hard in mere seconds. Left abruptly alone in the confines of his room, Nero had lied in his bed, so frustrated that he'd been so close to breaking the older man's resolve. He thought about all the things they could have done if he had stayed.

As shameful as it was, he came harder than he thought he ever could in his drunken haze, and passed out with his cock in his hand like an idiot.

"I'm sorry about last night… I'm not about how I feel." Nero began slowly, treading the waters.

"How quaint. I suggest you reign in those… mercurial emotions of yours for your sake." The older man said in a controlled tone.

"Stubborn as fuck, I see." Nero said, a smile playing at his lips.

"And you're an incorrigible little shite." Credo retorted, pushing himself off the door jamb. "Breakfast will be ready soon." He said as he closed the door behind him.

Nero smiled slowly, convinced that what had just happened between them felt a lot like… flirtation. Nero chose to believe that.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

When Nero finally made it down the stairs, both Kyrie and Credo were fully dressed and at the table. Kyrie was in a cheerful, one-sided conversation with her brother when she peered up at him with her brightest smile.

Nero loved Kyrie like a brother loved a sister. He would do anything to protect this family, her most of all.

They played often as children, and Kyrie was the first person to show him unconditional love when he was adopted underneath this household. Despite his unknown origins, being under this roof left his curiosity at the door-step. He figured whoever his father or mother really was didn't give a shit about him and wouldn't start now.

Credo and Kyrie were all he had and Nero was fine with that.

Sitting across from Credo, he took a look at the food set before him, his stomach rumbling loudly. Kyrie giggled, her cheeks tinged pink.

"Eat up, you two! I've made lunch for the both of you, as well." She clasped her delicate hands together enthusiastically. Nero smiled at her warmth.

"Sweet! Thanks, Kyrie." Nero beamed, reaching over to tug her plaited braid, a gentle, affectionate gesture. Credo grunted as he absently forked into his plate, seemingly incensed by his newspaper.

A part of Nero wished Credo would be more considerate of Kyrie, but she never seemed upset by it. But Nero also knew that even though he was part of this family, there was a bond he would never have. It was one that could only be made through blood.

Credo had always been there for Kyrie. Their history to the fullest, Nero would never know. He thought, for a brief moment, how the tables would turn if Credo had, in actuality, been his blood brother. The thought sent a wild pang of discomfort. He was glad for once they weren't related.

"His Holiness expects the campaign to progress soon. Does he tell you details, Credo?"

"Yeah, Credo. What _does_ his "Holiness" want us to do next?" Nero asked, chewing with an obnoxious smile. Credo's eyes skated between the two of them, stroking his goatee once in contemplation. Nero could tell he was coming up with a sarcastic, snide reply.

Nero chose to imitate the older man's movement, catching the glint of irritation in his eye. Kyrie burst into another one of her cute giggles at the display. Yesterday's blunder seemed to be water beneath the bridge, the tension light.

Credo stood, and Kyrie pointed to his plate as a reminder to take it with him. "Both of your lunches are on the counter in the kitchen. By the way, isn't your birthday coming up, Nero? We'll have to do something special this year!" She said, clasping her hands together in excitement.

Nero rubbed his neck and smiled sheepishly. "You know I don't need anything, Kyrie. Seriously!" He laughed. For a moment the boy thought about Credo gift-wrapped in red silk bows tied meticulously around his body. _The stuff of wet dreams,_ He thought as he gave a silly smile.

" I'll be at the terrarium with Hilda, today. She and I need some down-time from singing lessons."

"That tall, lanky, freckled girl who always wears pants?" Credo's nose wrinkled.

"The very same! I like her. She's delightfully kind to me." Kyrie blushed, ignoring Credo's assessing glare at his sister's sudden plans. Nero thought in hilarity that Credo looked more like a concerned father rather than a brother by the second.

"Wouldn't want her taking your precious Kyrie away, Credo. Better watch out." Nero snickered at the pointed glare in his direction. He lived for that look.

"You are the voice to this city. I don't think I need to remind you to watch who you keep company with."

"Yes, _Father_, I will." Kyrie rolled her bright brown eyes, shaking the bangs from them. Her and Nero's eyes met, and they both snorted, the inside joke lost on Credo.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

It was on days like today that Nero had found himself at the training grounds. Despite last night's indiscretion, Nero managed another glimpse underneath the mask Credo had put up for others. He wanted to be confident of the fact that he could.

His mind dispelled all his internal worries as he stepped into a large room. Order of Sparda banners hung from each wall in decoration in rich red, gold and white coordination. The racks to each wall were arranged to have different weapons on display in glass cases. People sparred from left to right, and Nero felt inspired for a moment at everyone's enthusiasm. He took a seat at a bench near a rack of wooden swords, taking a moment to revel in the rivalry.

From a distance Nero caught sight of a familiar head, his eyes traveling through moving, mingling bodies to catch a glimpse of Credo. His heart stood still, arrested at the way the older man held a relaxed stance, seemingly caught up in conversation with another man beside him.

He hadn't looked any older than his late twenties. They exchanged sentences, Nero observed. He watched Credo wipe his forehead, noted the way his hair fell in his eyes… and then the blond haired guy had handed him his towel. Nero pursed his lips, aggravated that it was so blatantly obvious what was happening.

Did he have proof? The hell he didn't! But the way the guy looked at Credo, and the way he smiled briefly in his direction made him feel sort of pissed off about it. It seemed Credo hadn't realized he was there yet, and so Nero took advantage of his element of surprise. The boy unzipped his jacket to toss on the bench, making his way towards the two men.

He wasn't jacked like a lot of the guys in the room were, but despite his age, Nero was deceptively strong. He'd taken notice to things like that since he'd hit puberty. He was more agile, keener to his surroundings. He would've been lying if he'd said his heightened senses didn't keep him out of dicey situations.

Despite all that, it seemed Credo was the only person who could contest with him. He found that fact curious and odd, but if he really had thought on it, Credo was experienced in battle. Being a Captain had to count for something. Nero hoped one day he would become stronger, and make Credo submit to him.

He relished the thought.

Credo and the googly-eyed blond began sparring again, and this time Nero watched. The blond had nothing on Credo, but seemed to be on the defense, dodging instead. People were beginning to gather around to watch as well, and Nero was swept up into the circle before he knew it.

Their fists connected, and Credo stopped the younger male's arm with his own in a swift, coordinated move that brought him down into a light headlock, holding the younger male to keep him from falling. "Good, but don't be sloppy next time," Nero was close enough to hear Credo say.

The younger man seemingly embarrassed with himself for losing so easily, stood up straight as soon as he was able, nodding slowly. It was then that Credo and Nero's eyes met. The crowd of people dispersed but Nero remained.

"Who's that?"

"A colleague of mine's son," Credo murmured as he flexed his hands, resting a hand on his hip with a sigh, wiping his forehead with the other. Nero gave a pressing glance, and heard the older man sniff. "He asked me to train him for the day. It's usually his father, but he insisted."

"Insisted, huh? He looks like he's into you and not the training."

Credo raised a brow at the statement, not in the least bit amused by the insinuation. "What are you talking about?"

Nero absolutely hated how oblivious Credo was at times. Was he playing him for the fool or did he really not know? Jealousy dug deep, but Nero attempted to control himself. These days, he found it hard to control himself on any matter involving Credo.

"The way he looked at you." At that Credo came closer, his voice dangerously low as he said, "I suggest you keep your voice—down—Nero." Credo iterated the last two words through gritted teeth. Nero drank in the proximity between them. The heat of Credo's body hardly graced his presence before it was gone.

Nero opened his mouth again to say something, but Credo had already dragged him across the room. He hardly had time to grab his jacket before he was tugged into a nearby hallway, far away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

"Credo—" Nero began. Credo thrust Nero before him, his hand at the wall to cage him in.

"You're going to tell me what it is that makes you think you can just—"

"Credo,"

"—waltz into here and act as if I should—"

"I wasn't thinking!" Nero snapped, and for a moment Credo was quiet.

"That's your problem, Nero. You NEVER think!" Credo growled. At that Nero fell silent.

"Sorry… the way you smiled at him… totally lost it…" Nero whispered. They both stared at each other, and in the concealed shadow of the hallway, Nero had found the hem of Credo's sweat-soaked shirt to hold on to as soon as he saw the look of hesitation in Credo's eyes at the contact.

"When I'm around, you never smile anymore." It was a soft confession, one that had the Captain's brows furrowing in a tight line.

"I know this has been hard on you, accepting what's going on between us, but—"

"Nero, we shouldn't be having this conversation." Credo interceded.

"—I want you to know I can be patient." The youth closed the space between them as his hand traveled up Credo's chest. He could feel the hard planes of muscle and sinew beneath the material, felt his pectoral muscles tighten then relax beneath his touch. Credo's hands were at Nero's hips to keep him at bay, much like the night they'd almost kissed. They gripped him there as if he were experimenting with his self-control, whether or not it would be ok to even be touching him. Nero leaned in, their breath mingling in the humid space between their faces.

"I know this freaks you out…" Nero began.

"An understatement," Credo grunted, but Nero noticed he hadn't moved away yet. A hope he'd been trying to squash ignited all over again.

"It freaks me out, too, actually." Nero ducked his head and gave a nervous little laugh. When Nero looked up again, he found Credo watching him.

"I'm old enough t—"

"But you're… not… my dad, Credo…" Nero reiterated each word softly. The corner of Credo's mouth twitched.

"You're still too—"

"Young? Not in a few days I won't be... I'll be eighteen, and the law says I'll be legal enough." Nero's voice lowered an octave. Credo's lips smacked shut.

Nero waited on pins and needles, hoping the older man had run out of reasons to deny him something he knew they both wanted. The sound of people chatting further down the hall had them breaking away from each other, the moment to say anything lost.

"I'll wait, but only until then!" He called after the man as he turned the corner. In the darkness of the hallway, Nero trembled. His heart had been beating a mile a minute, completely sure that his feelings for Credo were frighteningly real.


	8. Pendulum Swing

It had been almost three days, and Nero was nowhere to be found.

And by "nowhere to be found", Credo deducted from behind his desk, Nero was avoiding him. Credo scrambled to find a connection in his mind as to why all teenagers were hormonal prats. He was probably lashing out at him, maybe upset by the fact that he hadn't answered to his ultimatum. He had warned the boy to reign in his mercurial emotions, didn't he?

He was sure he did.

Credo had settled and made his peace about the things he'd said. It didn't seem to matter once he touched base with his favorite imported scotch. He didn't want to worry about the details. But the man did, and he hated how damned cranky he was over it.

Whenever he came home, there was a reminder that the boy had been there. A towel re-arranged on the rack in the bathroom down the hall, a plate with a half-eaten sandwich; the scent of that nonsense that boys his age liked to spray on themselves permeating the air as if he was just there not too long ago.

The commander was _livid_.

And not just at Nero, no, at himself for even considering what all this could mean to him. It spoke that he cared, that he _felt things—_the commander sneered_—_ about Nero. That he, a grown man, was attracted to a seventeen—_going on eighteen,_ his mind corrected—year old boy.

Serenity couldn't save him now.

_He can go off and do whatever the hell he wants_, Credo thought as he paced with clasped hands behind his back.

He had greater things to think about rather than waste it away on what Nero could be doing.

Sanctus had implemented the use of the Blanco Angelo; they were now in testing phase. Credo had received the reports with mixed success. It seemed there was still yet dysfunctional, and Agnus was requesting for more time to figure things out.

Credo had to give it to Agnus for his genius in his arena of expertise. The power of Angels could now be manifested and utilized by man himself. It was a grand discovery, and Sanctus would be their leader to usher in a new age, of capable, strong minds, and could only make that wish realized.

So the cause stated.

Sanctus had chosen him as his right hand wisely.

There had always been those who had their doubts on that decision.

He remembered how small he was when he'd first heard of Sanctus' plan for the Order. How eager Credo was to rise up his sword in zealous passion for Sanctus' cause.

His rise to becoming Captain to the Order's ranks was still something that reached his ears at times. The dissent of the few wasn't enough to scare the straight-faced Commander. He'd seen and done things that had numbed himself to the reaction of others. He wasn't living for the benefit of others, but for himself. He'd learned to do so over the years working under Sanctus. Credo had long since cast away the need to appease others.

He had learned to shut his heart, to make hard decisions in battle, to take a commanding presence, and to keep dark secrets along the way. The commander felt vulnerable and weak without it.

_'That Credo boy is Sanctus' pet. His Holiness favors him above us all.'_

_'I wonder what they talk about…'_

_'Look at how he looks down on us. He thinks he's better? He has no business being by Sanctus' side.'_

Credo remembered being freshly recruited into the Order, and working as a tactical officer for a few years. Sanctus was strong and capable in those days, unlike the wisp of a shell of his former glory now. And although his belief was still strong, his energy had faded over the years.

He was grateful for a time for his opportunity to serve a man so great. But, like all things in his life since joining the Order, Credo had soon discovered what it really took to be brought into the fold. Sanctus had not been as holy as he led others to believe.

In those days he was hot-tempered, having to deal with being orphaned so early in his youth. But Sanctus had already ensnared him in his web. There was no getting out, not for him. If anyone were to find out how he and Sanctus were truly involved, it would be the end of his career. It would be the end of this campaign.

Everything would be for nothing. And so Credo faithfully played his part. That was the secret to his success at Sanctus' side, a secret he could only take with him until death came knocking on his door. What Nero had to do with things now remained a mystery, and playing double would most likely get him killed. But, Credo was sure that Sanctus was up to something.

There were things that Credo never liked to dwell on, or when he suppressed the crawling feeling in his spine whenever Sanctus and he were left alone. Those moments were rare now, but when they happened, Credo felt a queasy uneasiness settle into his belly. It was scary that a man at Sanctus's age held power over him still.

Credo secretly hated himself for it.

Credo ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, his hazel eyes hazy and unfocused until there was a soft rap at the door. His eyes regained the light in them, seemingly confused by the knock at first. "You may enter," The Captain let out gruffly, taking his seat.

The door opened, and Agnus appeared in his usual attire. Credo thought the monocle on Agnus' eye, coupled by the proportions of his gigantic chin and crudely buzz-cut hair made the man look just as crazy as his personality revealed.

Agnus was an aggravating weasel of a man, and just couldn't listen to others. He always had to have the last word. But, Agnus had entered the Order a little after he had. His lust for competition was unlike anything he'd ever seen. But, it kept Credo on his toes. It was all Agnus was good for.

His usual stink-eye expression met Credo's unwavering, cool gaze.

Credo had spent years perfecting that face for the rat bastard. He was an adversary worthy of the books, Credo thought in grim humor.

He could always tell when Agnus seethed hatred at him. After all, Credo was in the position he wanted most. He wondered at that moment what Agnus would do to be at Sanctus side. Credo hoped to never know the answer.

The truth was Credo didn't care much for his position, but for its military advantages. Ever since Credo could remember, both he and Agnus were dancing that tango for years. He was more than ready to keep this position from the likes of Agnus.

And Credo made sure Agnus knew it.

Triumphant at that fact, he settled haughtily into his leather upholstered chair.

"What do you want?" Credo let out rudely, dropping pretenses immediately. "I have an appointment to attend to." It was a lie, but Credo hated Agnus and couldn't be bothered. It was borderline childish, but this went deeper than disagreement on views.

This was a man who rejected his very way of doing things. And, Credo just couldn't have that.

"His Holiness is pleased with the data I've c-c-collected on the Blanco Angelo." God, Credo hated his stuttering. It was one of those annoying qualities he disliked about Agnus the most.

"Shouldn't you be reporting to him, then?" Credo's upper lip curled, settling in his chair.

"Except t-that this pertains to you, as well."

Credo sat up a bit at that, his brows furrowing. "And?"

He wondered where this was going.

Agnus gave a slow smile. Credo found it profoundly creepy.

"You're the highest rank in the Knights of the Order. It's only n-natural that h-his Holiness would want to use you." He heard Agnus's murmurings, then a swift look to his nails.

Credo stiffened at the vague statement. Sanctus would use him for_ what?_

_"I have big plans for you, my dearest Credo…"_

Credo heard the words echo at the back of his mind, words he'd heard once or twice before but couldn't recall the time or context in which they were spoken to him. He felt completely unsettled by the news. Agnus seemed pleased and beside himself at his reaction.

"Surely you've noticed b-by now?" Credo heard Agnus' stuttered murmur. Hazel eyes focused on the larger man once more, dread drifting into his belly as Agnus continued to confirm his suspicions.

"That the Blanco Angelo are human test subjects. That is, Knights who once belonged to the Order."

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When Credo finally entered his home, it was after the hour of twelve o'clock.

With the recent information he was given, Credo wasn't sure if he should sit down and have a stiff drink, or pace about in his study until a hole was formed in the wooden floor beneath his leather boots. He recounted the conversation for the millionth time in his head.

_"There are risks …"_

_"Not every candidate is chosen."_

_"There's a chance the rejection may kill you."_

With heavy feet, Credo shuffled up the steps, not giving a damn who or what heard him. He knew Kyrie was asleep, and Nero was most likely not here anyway, off to be with whatever crowd of teenagers he was hanging with this time. His mind settled on the thought that he had driven the last and final nail into his own coffin.

Sanctus was sending him down someplace he wasn't sure he would survive. Was this the test?

"Never too late to run," Credo snorted in grim humor underneath his breath as he sorted keys and kidskin gloves interchangeably. The thought was short-lived however, as the bathroom door down the hall opened and light flooded the dark space. Credo froze in place at the sudden rush of light exposing his position, his heart hammering.

So Kyrie was awake? He thought, but squinted as he saw someone rather familiar step into the hallway.

For a moment Credo contemplated staying still, but once Nero looked his way he knew it would be impossible to stay undetected. _For God's sake, I'm a grown man. Why should I be hiding? _Credo thought in irritation at himself as he straightened to regard the youth.

They both exchanged glances during their uncomfortable bout of silence, until Nero averted his gaze. Credo watched as the boy dried his hair, momentarily mesmerized by the way those wet locks matted to his forehead as he pulled the towel off. Credo wanted nothing more than to retreat to solitude that lay waiting up one more flight, to revel in what possibly could have been his last moments alive. But here he was—

In his own house—

Gob-smacked and without words to give.

_Shit._

They exchanged glances again, the hallway too small and narrow for both of them to pass each other by. It felt like a ridiculously dramatic scene from a movie. Credo couldn't believe his legs weren't moving yet. And with that, the commander made use of them at last, taking a cautious step forward.

Credo moved to the left as Nero moved in that same direction, and for a moment they both seemed too disoriented to figure it out. Credo could see from here that the boy was blushing. He smelled of lemongrass soap and a hint of a scent familiar to him. Credo thought it smelled awfully similar to a bottle of cologne he himself owned. This hadn't been the first time, he recalled.

Credo opened his mouth to say something but pursed his lips instead, both of them at a standstill. It pained him to say it, but the insufferable look Nero was giving him beckoned him to speak. "I… didn't expect you to be here," Credo supplied lamely, frowning as Nero visibly winced.

"It's cool. I'll stay out of your way." Was all the youth could muster after a moment of heavy silence that sent Credo's nerves on edge.

Had he skipped something here?

Nero's voice held a note of disappointment, as if he had hoped to hear something else. With all that had been going on, Credo realized finally it was the boy's birthday. He'd always known deep down, but now it was here. Now it was real.

Then suddenly all the news of what he'd discovered today died away at the longing look in Nero's eyes. Now was the time to tell him how very inappropriate this all was. How it was ludicrous to chase love-sick notions or that they could never entertain the idea of them being together because living in secrecy would change Nero, and perhaps make him just as bitter as he had growing up.

There wasn't a guarantee Credo would be alive to even see it.

And yet, there he was… giving that look that made it difficult to look back, one that spoke of a love that was neither foolish nor child-like in the slightest. He'd seen boys become men, but love brought about a special awareness: the power to crush someone's heart with just a few words. He watched the boy go, but something bothered him about the finality of those words. Angry at how he hadn't said anything, Credo reached for him as he passed.

"Nero—" He exclaimed as he grabbed the boy's arm, taking a firm hold. Nero kept his eyes averted, felt him shake from restraint or to hold back tears. Credo couldn't tell which it was, even this close to him in the dark.

"Nero… I'm—I can't…" The commander began as sweat beaded on his upper lip. The words were there. He could say them. But before Credo could finish he felt the youth crumple into his arms, burying his face into the folds of his white uniform. "Don't…. don't say it, ok?" Nero beckoned quietly.

For a long time, they stood like that, Nero unwavering in his need to hold the man. Credo stared down, hands held above as if to keep them away, but instead they wrapped around shaking shoulders.

Gently, more gently than he'd ever believed he could be with another person, Credo cupped Nero's neck and felt the youth relax visibly at the touch. "Nero, you have to let—" The tight squeeze around his waist cut him off, and Credo realized that Nero had no intention of letting him go now.

Nero inhaled slowly into his chest as if to smell him, and Credo's cheeks colored at the discovery. Finally, Nero raised his head to watch him, cerulean eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep and worry. "Can I kiss you…?"

Credo was caught off-guard by the innocent question, stiffening. "What kind of que—"

"Can I kiss you? Please… " The boy repeated firmly. He hadn't quite heard Nero ever use the word "please", as it was devoid of use in his vocabulary. In a warped way it was humbling to see Nero so desperate for his attention. They were things that reminded him that Nero still was very much a boy, young and virile, unspoiled by the taint of this world.

He didn't give Credo time to say much of anything, closing the gap between them. The kiss was soft and chaste, and for a moment the commander let him do as he pleased. His lips were soft and pliant—and a bit clumsy. But, he was all tongue and teeth now, and Credo wanted to pull away, knowing where this was going to lead.

_One kiss, one kiss,_ He thought like a mantra over and over in his head, but as Nero tilted his mouth up to his, darted his tongue out to taste his bottom lip, asking for invitation, heard the soft groan emanate from the boy as he took liberties…

Credo firmly took hold of Nero's neck to tip his face back, breaking the kiss. The dazed youth panted softly up at him in, giving a low-lidded gaze of confusion. He could still feel Nero's arms wrapped around his waist to keep the commander from pulling away. The intimate press of their bodies revealed more than it should have.

Credo's mind red-lined. _This was so bad, so very, very—_

Nero's nose nudged along the powerful jut of Credo's bearded chin, explored the newly grown stubble just at his throat, before planting a kiss there. The older man found his face in soft, white hair before letting out a trembling sigh. Taking that as encouragement, Nero kissed him again, and this time Credo allowed it.

They kissed like that in the dark, private space of the hallway until they pulled apart, their heated pants mingling in the silence.

"Let me come up, tonight…" The words were unmistakable in their intent, and Credo could tell Nero would not back down. Not after everything.

With a resigned sigh, Credo turned and took the first few steps up the stairs. When the expected sound of Nero's footsteps didn't come, Credo turned to see what had stopped him. He found Nero staring up at the stairs, a strange look crossing his youthful features. He looked unsure if the moment was real or not, and Credo let out an exasperated sigh.

"Come," Credo urged gruffly, pulling the boy along with an encouraging tug. The youth stumbled forward, and followed closely until they reached the top.


	9. White Noise

"Y-You sure about this?" _Well, it was too fucking late to say "no", now was it?_ Credo thought, balancing between amusement and aggravation at the question.

"I don't want y-you doing anything you don't want to…"

"It's your birthday." Credo muttered simply.

"Y-Yeah, but—Oh, God, does this mean we can do this every year?" At the breathy question, Credo gave the boy a severe glance.

Credo took an abrupt stop at the door to get the keys, Nero bumping into him on accident.

"S-Sorry, Sorry—" He whispered out quickly.

The older man tossed his keys to the table laden with open books and papers, plucking open the front lapel of his uniform, dark buttons popping open. Nero's eyes focused on the pale skin at Credo's throat down to where the lapel lay open in a flimsy fashion, exposing the powerful delineation of pectoral muscles. Credo was fit and strong, and despite his height and build, he was graceful when he walked. Nero had always admired his discipline, regardless of the fact that he was a complete hellion towards the man.

He took note of his hairy chest, and _wondered_ at the commander's strength and beauty. Nero thought he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes on.

He watched in intimate detail as Credo plucked off the sheath carrying his sword, setting it aside. The jacket came off, and Nero watched in fascination at the masculine figure before him folded the article of clothing neatly, before settling it on a chair nearby. He had wondered how many other men had seen this before, suddenly feeling jealous.

Shaking that out of his mind, the younger male took a step forward, pressing his face into Credo's back. "Not gonna back out of this, are you?" He muffled in-between Credo's shoulder blades, holding him close as if he were afraid this would all crumble away should he loosen for a moment's notice.

After a long silence, Credo finally spoke as he stared away from him, awkwardly caught up in the teen's embrace. "If I had that idea, I would've left your miserable ass downstairs in the dark." Credo could feel the boy's smile against his back, and felt irritation simmer despite his desire to be angry with him instead.

"But, you didn't." Nero stood in front of him, smoothed his palms slowly over Credo's chest, reveling in the textured contrast of hair to skin beneath his exploring fingertips. Credo's breath sharpened as Nero explored his nipples with nimble fingertips. Their eyes met as Nero began to brush his thumbs over pebbled flesh, watched with abated breath as it tightened beneath his searching touch.

"Touch me, too." The boy murmured softly as his hands found Credo's fisted ones. They unclenched slowly as Nero's fingers sought out the warmth of those sword-calloused hands, leaning up to kiss the corner of the commander's lips.

Credo recalled a time when he was good at this, at fucking… at making love. Credo's hand lifted to sift fingers through Nero's drying hair, felt the pliant and willing press of his lips against his own. They exchanged sweet, open-mouthed kisses that left them both hard and wanting when they finally stopped for breath.

Nero took off his shirt to toss it carelessly on the floor, tugging nervously at his belt before Credo stayed his hands. They shook within his large ones, and Credo silently waited for him to regain his bearings. "We don't have to do anything," When the commander spoke, his voice was thick with desire, a pang resonating deep in Nero's gut at the words.

He wanted him, Nero knew that for certain. He didn't care if this was all just a dream tomorrow. "I want us t…to do this…" Nero added slowly, his cheeks a brilliant shade of red as he kept his gaze on the older man. "I could never want anyone else."

Credo doubted that, but something in Nero's words felt real enough. Nero guided him to the divan set up at the far left corner that overlooked the city from a large bay window. In the darkness, nothing but the moon's iridescent glow flooded the room. It wasn't until they both reached the divan that Credo pulled Nero into his arms, kissing him thoroughly.

"Take them off," He commanded softly.

Without hesitation, Nero began to undo his pants. He stepped out of his underwear, increasingly aware of the intense gaze Credo gave him as he did so. A blush stained his face as he stood there with his head down, completely naked before the older man. Credo noticed his shy attempts at hiding himself.

It was too late for innocence.

"Look at me. Otherwise you have no business doing this." Nero's head snapped up, a fresh retort on his kissable lips. It died away when a hand reached out to brush along Nero's collarbone, smoothing his thumb over the particular jut of bone that connected both clavicles at his sternum.

As Nero stood there, Credo touched and teased until the boy was nearly rocking forward for more. He'd found, as reluctant as it was to say this, that there was nothing _little_ about Nero at all. Credo eased him into a whimper as he took hold of the boy's flesh, stroking the shaft as if he had time to map out each individual vein. It throbbed as the commander made a fist around his cock, gliding patient fingers over the tip.

He heard Nero hyperventilate. Being young and a virgin, Credo knew it wouldn't take much to bring him to the edge.

"Don't cum yet," Credo muttered as he squeezed the head, catching Nero's flushed face scrunched up as if to concentrate on keeping his cock from exploding in the man's hand. As Nero struggled to impossibly will his penis down a degree, Credo sat down to pull off his boots, then began to undo his own pants, folding them neatly as he had his uniform to, placing it on the chair to the side. It was Nero's turn to look down, and Credo was slightly amused at the way the boy was openly gawking at him.

"Wow," Nero began, breathless. "You're beautiful…"

Credo cracked a smile then, unable to contain the amusement in his voice as he said, "I suppose I'm… glad you find my body to your liking."

"Oh, totally—yeah, you have… have _no_ idea." Nero swallowed. "Will it… fit?"

Credo snorted, but it didn't stop his cock from jerking in interest at the thought. "Yes, Nero, I'll make sure of it." The older man said in dark promise. The boy shivered visibly. The sinful curve of his belly was in line with his vision, and for once Credo didn't think, burying his face into the soft, fine baby hair traveling down into a thatch of curls that nestled cock and balls. He kissed and nibbled there, having seen it so many times without being able to touch.

Nero gasped above him, his cock twitching beneath Credo's chin as he nuzzled there.

"Tell me what you want…" Credo heard himself say, the hands sifting through his hair a delicious distraction that had his eyes lowering.

"You," A shaky response. Credo wanted more, wanted to torture the boy a little further, peering up at him, a devious little smile playing at his lips. There would be another time for that.

_Would there be…?_ Credo pushed the dark thought aside for now. He rather wanted to be entranced by that irresistible treasure trail instead. "I want to hear you say it…"

Nero groaned, reaching down to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock. "Here, want you here—"

As much as he wanted to watch him suffer another moment of embarrassment, Credo obliged him, his mouth descending. Nero's surprised gasps and the sudden rock of his hips encouraged Credo to take him to the hilt. He tasted sweet on his tongue, those cries dissolving into the background to pool into his own burgeoning need. Credo was painfully erect at the lewd sounds escaping Nero now.

"Gonna cum, _h-hoooly shit_…" Nero's voice rose high and tight, and Credo sucked him long and hard until the youth convulsed, hot seed spurting down his throat. He panted, looking down with a dazed expression that had Credo's cheeks coloring a bit. "Beautiful," Came the breathy response, a thumb brushing over Credo's wet lips. "Thought about you doing that for a long time… I think… I can die happy now."

"There will be no dying." Credo grunted, and Nero gurgled with laughter.

"What we're doing here, Nero… what you're asking of me to do… there will be no turning back. Are you sure this is what you want?" The likelihood that Nero would say no after everything they'd done so far was so slim, but Credo had to ask.

"Hell yeah, it is. I've wanted this—you—for so long. Nothing else matters. "

"Look at me…. Or you have no business doing this." Credo looked up at the remark, alarmed at the clarity in his voice. He found Nero smiling down at him, catching on to the repetition of his words.

"Lie down, you brat." Credo muttered, a smile creeping on his face at the clever play of words.

He pulled Nero close to the divan, the youth tumbling against him in a tangled mass of limbs. Credo moved over him, a hand meandering up and down Nero's thigh to the high tilt of hipbone.

Nero shut his eyes, inhaling in a shaky rhythm that betrayed his desire as Credo spread his legs to nestle in-between them. They gasped at the contact of their cocks bumping into each other. Nero lifted his hips to rub into him again, and Credo sighed at the contact, brushing his thumb over Nero's hip bone to still him. Despite having come earlier, Nero was already hard again.

"I've done research about… about sex… shouldn't there be, uh… something to help you?" Credo was busy exploring Nero's pulse-point, finally lifting his head. "Lubricant? Of course. Did you expect I'd take you like this?"

Nero nodded dumbly. "Yeah, kinda."

Credo reached somewhere underneath the divan to pull out a non-descript bottle. Nero looked at it, then at Credo.

"For those lonely, frustrating nights." Credo joked, and Nero's brows rose into his hairline, his cheeks red. He half-wished it had been a joke, but now was not the time to validate it.

The sound of a cap opening and closing vaguely crossed Nero's mind, and then there was something wet and cold spreading over his cock and balls. He twitched at the sensation, his eyes opening to see what the older man was doing, finally.

And then fingers were touching him again, slick and wet. They slipped between the cleft of Nero's ass, found his puckered flesh to circle it gently, teasingly. "Oh—" Nero began with a soft gasp, his knees trembling as Credo kissed into his neck. "The key is to relax," He heard the older man murmur as a thick digit began to invade him.

Nero held his breath as it entered, clenching around the intruding finger. It felt incredibly wet as it slipped inside to the second knuckle, a whimper escaping his lips. The sensation was slightly painful but the hand at his cock seemed to make it almost bearable. But as that finger moved deeper, a pang of pleasure coursed through him, bucking up with a soft mewl.

"A-Ah—what was that—whoa—" Nero's commentary did very little to ease his annoyance, but he pressed on.

The next finger felt uncomfortable, covering his eyes with his arms. "Ughn… a-ah… Credo…" Credo heard the pain in those words, and his hand brushed Nero's arms aside to take a good look at him.

"It'll pass… try touching yourself, it helps." The older man took his time preparing the youth, kissing him gently as he got him wet and loose. Nero whimpered as he reached the third finger, his insides clenching around them. Credo had wanted to draw this out more, but he found his restraint was thinning. He doubted he would make it that far. They both exchanged kisses as Credo guided his cock up against the boy's slippery crack, leaning forward against the backs of Nero's knees.

Nero felt his cock slip inside, and for a wild moment the world stood still. The hand at his cock steadily stroked as Credo entered him slowly. It hurt at first, a slow burgeoning pain that seemed so damned uncomfortable that the boy felt tears fill his eyes.

"Credo—fuckfuckfuck—" Nero gritted out, choking down a guttural cry of pain.

"Don't clench." Credo growled into his ear. On the second push in, the pain lessened then ebbed into something else, something that made his insides throb as he took it deeper. Credo watched his innocence dissolve away with every inch he sank into the boy, and Nero took him with a sweet sting that had his toes curling on contact. Instinctively, Nero angled his hips back to grind against Credo. He heard a soft grunt, a puff of breath into the cradle of the youth's neck as they made a careful, slow rhythm.

The pain slowly subsided, and then it became unimportant. Grunts of pleasure mingled in the heavy atmosphere as Credo thrust with more force, Nero's startled voice discovering pleasure for the first time. Credo was damn near balls deep inside of him when he'd heard Nero babble out how he loved him, freezing at the confession.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," The youth whispered over and over. "Please don't stop, please—"

Credo wanted to overlook it, figured it to be an issue that would come up later when they both had cooled down enough to talk about it. _One step at a time,_ the older man thought as he thrust mercilessly deep. They continued on this way, but Credo was unsatisfied with the position. He pulled out, coaxing Nero into a different position.

"Ohhhfuckyes…" Nero's cries were muffled into the divan as Credo entered him from behind, burying his face into the arm rest of the couch with a hot and heavy sigh. Their fingers intertwined at the edge of the divan as Credo thrust hard. With the way Nero's ass clung, so tight and hot, Credo could feel his impending orgasm draw nearer by the second. The boy gasped out his name as they rode their pleasure to the very end. There were no pleasantries, no words exchanged for a while, the sounds of their broken pants and gasps filling the air like a sweet melody.

"Credo, Credo—I-I—" The hand on his cock pumped furiously, stars crossing his vision as he felt the beginning of another orgasm take hold of him. Nero muffled a broken cry into the divan, clenching Credo's hands as he finally came. The commander followed in suit not too long after, stilling deep inside the boy as he sought out his own release, tossing his head back to groan as he filled the youth with his seed. They tumbled to the divan, both panting as though they'd run a marathon. It was a long time before the two moved. Nero winced a little when Credo left his body, turning to touch his chest. He opened his mouth to say something, but Credo pulled him close to rest his head against his chest.

"Sleep," The man murmured softly, understanding the boy's sudden awkwardness.

Nero buried his face into Credo's neck, sighing aloud. Credo finally let himself drift off to slumber for the first time in days, lost in white noise.


End file.
